


The Play Of Love

by verydryzen



Category: yuri on ice
Genre: As You Like It, Bad Puns, Bawdy Humor, Comedy, Cyrano de Bergerac - Freeform, Elizabethan Insults, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Love Polygon, M/M, Must love to read Shakespeare, Racist Slurs, Romance, Shakespeare Quotations, Shakespeare in the Park, Wordplay, amateur theatrical productions, hate attacks, kung fu fighting, literature-based, lots of difficult language, smidgen of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 02:36:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 45,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18111524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verydryzen/pseuds/verydryzen
Summary: Phichit Chulanont is a modern day Cyrano, and a brilliant and diminutive young actor from Seattle. He is enamored of  Shakespearean actor Victor Nikiforov. When the famous Victor leads an amateur theater production of Shakespeare's As You Like It, will Phichit (accompanied by his best friend Yuri) finally declare himself to his idol?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to the silly, talented, bawdy workers of the Renaissance Faire.
> 
> Main Characters of As You Like It: 
> 
> The Court of Duke Frederick:  
> Duke Frederick, Duke Senior’s younger brother and his usurper, also Celia’s father  
> Rosalind, Duke Senior’s daughter, AKA Ganymede  
> Celia, Duke Frederick’s daughter and Rosalind’s cousin, AKA Aliena  
> Touchstone, a court fool or jester  
> Le Beau, a courtier  
> Charles, a wrestler 
> 
> The Household of the deceased Sir Rowland de Boys:  
> Oliver de Boys, the eldest son and heir  
> Jacques de Boys, the second son  
> Orlando de Boys, the youngest son  
> Adam, a faithful old servant who follows Orlando into exile 
> 
> The Exiled Court of Duke Senior in the Forest of Arden:  
> Duke Senior, Duke Frederick’s older brother and Rosalind’s father  
> Jaques, a discontented, melancholic lord 
> 
> Country folk in the Forest of Arden:  
> Phoebe, a proud shepherdess  
> Silvius, a shepherd  
> Audrey, a country girl who falls for a fool

**Prologue, Two Gentlemen of Drama**

 

**Seattle, Washington**

 

“I’m coming out of the closet!” announces Phichit. Yuri reads a book, lying on his bed. He counters, not looking up,

“When have you been in the closet? When you were five, you dressed up as Tinkerbell for Halloween.”

“Oooh! I remember that dress, it was so cute! And you dressed up like a frog, ‘coz Yuko said she’d be a princess, and you thought princesses would kiss frogs…” recalls Phichit gleefully. Yuri groans,

“There’s no need to remind me.”

But Phichit continues,

“… and she dressed up as Princess Leia, and that guy dressed up as a Wookie, and she kissed him… She liked furries, not froggies!”

“How are you coming out?” asks Yuri, hoping to change the topic.

“I’m creating my first dating profile on _Findr,_ ” explains Phichit, holding up his phone. “Help me, Yuri... Do people put their real names?”

“I don’t think so,” replies Yuri, still reading.

“Homebody, Body Double, It’s Big,…” says Phichit, reading other screen names. “I could be Sassy? Or...Dark Twink… Twinkerbell!”

“What’s a twink?” asks Yuri.

“Boyish gay man, usually slim and hairless…” Phichit excitedly types, “Age? 20. Height? 5 foot 5 inches, actually 5 foot 5 and ¼, I’m almost 5’ 6”.... especially if I wear heels…”

“Even taller if you wear ice skates, or stilts…” remarks Yuri, unhelpfully. Phichit growls back,

“Don’t tease me, I’m sensitive about my height. You’re lucky to be 5 foot 8 inches. You can kiss tall women, with a bit of a reach. I’m so short, I need to stand on a stool. 125 pounds, body type… slim. Am I toned or muscular? Toned. Position?”

“You’re a stage actor… or a waiter,” replies Yuri, coming over to look at Phichit’s phone.

“You’re so innocent. They mean top or bottom. Better to be mysterious. Ethnicity, Asian. My tribes...”

“Your tribes? You’re not Native American,” puzzles Yuri. Phichit rolls his eyes, and pats Yuri’s head.

“Remind me, we need to talk about the birds and the bees, the otter and the bears,” says Phichit.

 

Phichit spends the next half-hour taking selfies. He tries different lighting and shirts. Then he has Yuri take more photos. Eventually, Yuri hands the phone back.

“We’re spending more time on this than on your actor’s headshot. Why are you doing this? Do you want to get laid?” asks Yuri.

“Not yet, I want my first time to be special… Don’t you remember? You told me that at age 20, I would find true love,” explains Phichit, pointing to his palm. Yuri frowns, protesting,

“I’m an amateur palm reader, I was trying to cheer you up…”

“Your readings are uncannily accurate. Read your own palm some time,” says Phichit. Yuri shakes his head, and insists,

“I don’t want to know.”

 

Eventually, Phichit chooses a photo, and posts his profile. Within seconds, he squeals,

“My first message... ‘ _Want some of this_?’” Phichit shows Yuri a dick pick. Yuri shields his eyes with his hand. Phichit continues,

“Wow, that’s a long penis. Did he photoshop this? This isn’t sexy, it’s disturbing! When it’s that long, it’s good for dueling, not much else. Plus so much blood must leave his brain, it must leave him mentally impaired.”

Phichit clicks on the next message, and reads,

“ _Wassup_!” then cries “... _Worm, knot-pated, puke-stocking!”_

_“What’s wrong?” demands Yuri, closing his book._

“Despicable! This person says... ‘ _Sorry, not sorry. I like bears but not pandas’…_ I’m not a hairy bear. This one says... ‘ _You’re cute, for an Asian guy’ …_ and this one... _‘I don’t date Asians’_... and the idiot is Asian!” rages Phichit. He throws himself on the second bed in the room, hurt and disappointed.

“There are lots of racists out there… Anyway, you’re obsessed with a tall blonde Russian,” points out Yuri, glancing up at the poster of Victor Nikiforov in a _Midsummer Night’s Dream_. He’s dressed as Oberon, the King of the fairies, wearing a flower crown and a tunic of leaves. “Aren’t you judging him by his looks?”

Phichit looks at the poster, and mumbles into his bedspread,

“He was kind to me. I was a teenager, he came over and helped me up. He gave me one of his flowers from his headpiece. He’s a brilliant actor and he’s interesting, he reads literature… Well, according to his fanpage.”

 

**Yutopia, Japanese Restaurant**

 

“Phichit, the lunch rush is over, what do you want to eat?” asks Yuri, wiping tables.

“A bowl of ramen, please. And make one for yourself too, katsudon has too many calories. You’re getting pudgy again,” remarks Phichit, checking his phone.

“Really? I eat everything you eat, and I still gain weight…” complains Yuri.

“Oh my, oh my, by God’s teeth! There’s a call for Shakespearean actors to do exploratory theater in the woods near Ashland,” exclaims Phichit.

“Probably just some theater students planning to camp and get stoned,” comments Yuri.

“I think not. It’s organized by a well-known actor, drumroll please… Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuri serves them both bowls of soup, then asks,

“Why would someone from the Royal Shakespeare Company be messing around in the Oregon woods?”

“Why indeed…” replies Phichit, with a sly smile. Yuri recognizes the look, and groans.

“Okay... but _you_ have to request time off from my mom, she’ll have to work double shifts while we’re gone,” responds Yuri guiltily.

 

 


	2. 2B Or Not 2B

Phichit and Yuri pack up Yuri’s father decrepit Toyota Tercel with camping gear, and head south towards Oregon.

“Is the antique rust bucket gonna make it?” questions Phichit dubiously.

“It’s not like your father will loan us his BMW,” retorts Yuri, getting behind the wheel. As they sit in Seattle traffic, Phichit announces,

“It’s time for a game of Sherlock Shakespeare: The game is a foot!”

Yuri groans,

“That game is too hard. I’m not playing.”

Phichit looks at him pleadingly, with sad puppy eyes. Yuri groans again.

“Fine. But no need to be word for word accurate, or be in verse... and the name of the play is enough, none of this act 4, scene 2, line 102 business.”

“Fine, baby beginning rules. You can start,” replies Phichit happily.

“I don’t have an eidetic memory...” complains Yuri.

“ _Oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse._ King John. I’m ahead by one point. Are you still in love with Yuko?”

“Uh... _I count myself in nothing else so happy... as in a soul remembering my good friends._ King John?”

“Richard II. I’ll be magnanimous and give you a point.”

“Are you still a virgin?” asks Yuri, resigned.  
“ _I will stand for it a little, though therefore I will die a virgin._ All’s Well That Ends Well, Act I, Scene I. 2 – 1. Are you gay or straight?”

“ _This above all: to thine ownself be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man._ Hamlet. 2 – 2.”

“You always avoid answering that question…” mutters Phichit.

“Why don’t you mind your own business then?” counters Yuri. Phichit replies,

“ _Friendship is constant in all other things save in the office and affairs of love: Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; let every eye negotiate for itself._ Much Ado About Nothing. 3 – 2.”

 

They arrive in the small town near the campground, and Phichit calls out,

“Quick pull over. Let’s get a selfie.”

The car swerves onto the dirt and stops. Phichit holds out his phone, and poses. Yuri smiles obligingly. Phichit reads the town sign,

“ _Verona, Oregon: a nice town, population 2390_. Sounds very humble, the town isn’t great, just nice.”

“Our world travel: first Florence, Oregon, now Verona. Why do Oregonians love Italian city names?” questions Yuri. Phichit shrugs and says,

“ _Verona_ sounds better than _Beaverton_.”

He takes of his fringe jacket, and poses with his rainbow shirt that says ‘ _Too cute to be straight.’_ Then he tries some with different expressions.

“Why are you taking so many photos?” asks Yuri, getting impatient. Phichit exclaims excitedly,

“I want to remember this historic trip: where my true love and I will meet, then fall in love!”

 

They drive down Main street, park at the local grocery store, then browse inside. Suddenly a middle-aged man in an aisle yells,

“We don’t want any faggots here. Get out!”

Phichit moves towards the man, but Yuri grabs his friend’s arm and pulls him towards the cash register. Yuri chooses a couple premade sandwiches, pays and leaves.

“It’s only nice if you’re straight and white,” grumbles Phichit, as he peels off the plastic wrap on the smooshed uninspiring square. “Like these sandwiches!”

 

They find a campsite, surrounded by pine trees and begin to set up the tent.

“That pole doesn’t fit there...” says Yuri, sorting the different pieces.

“Is this canvas? When was this made... the Civil War? No, put that pole over there!” argues Phichit.

“I already tried that...” answers Yuri, pulling the canvas away from him.

“What happened to the regular camping gear? The one made in this century…” demands Phichit, with his hands on his hip.

“My sister Mari took it. She went to Canada,” replies Yuri. A blond man with glasses and a plaid shirt comes over from the next campground.

“Hey, my name is Chris. Wow! Is this an antique tent?” asks the blond, examining the rigid aluminum poles. Phichit nods.

“Indeed, we should sell it to a museum! I’m Phichit, and this is Yuri. The tent belonged to Yuri’s father when he was a boy.”

The three of them struggle with the setup for a while, till they figure out how the poles fit together.

 

Once they are set up, Phichit sits checking his phone, while Yuri starts a fire. Yuri complains,

“You said no phones in the woods. How are we supposed to enjoy nature?”

Phichit ignores him, and stands up excitedly.

“Victor Nikiforov is attending a dinner theater to watch one of his idols. Shall we go?” asks Phichit.

“Sure. I wouldn’t mind splurging on one dinner,” decides Yuri. Phichit disappears into the tent. He comes back out wearing a sparkling pink shirt, and tight striped pants.

“How do I look?” replies Phichit, checking a mirror. “Oh no. Poisonous bunchbacked toad! I have a giant pimple on my nose… I’m fortune’s fool.”

Yuri waits while Phichit deals with his pimple. Phichit takes out his makeup case, gets out various tools and ointments, and finally comes out with his nose extremely red and swollen.

“What did you do? It looks worse now…” exclaims Yuri. Phichit shakes his head.

“I put makeup on it, it looked bad, so I removed the makeup. But my skin reacted to this new concealer. Victor definitely won’t fall for me at first sight,” laments Phichit. “Let’s go.”

 

Yuri drives, while Phichit is glued to his phone. They arrive at a converted barn, complete with wagon wheel light fixtures and cow print seats. Still staring at his phone, Phichit runs into someone.

“Excuse me,” mutters Phichit, as Yuri pulls him aside. Yuri looks up at the tall blond man with piercing blue eyes, and freezes for a moment. Victor Nikiforov nods politely to them, then sits at a corner table with a sullen blond teenager. Yuri pokes Phichit, who finally looks up and sees the object of his search.

“Phichit, introduce yourself!” prompts Yuri. Phichit shakes his head, uncharacteristically shy, and says,

“Did you see him? He looks even more handsome in person… a winsome silvery elf, and he brought a blond friend with him, as pale as IKEA furniture.”

“Well, get over your shyness before the audition. I need help with my anxiety if I’m auditioning as well…” reminds Yuri. Phichit chatters nervously,

“The play tonight features Jacob Zachary, winner of the prestigious Lawrence Olivier award for best actor, a forceful commanding stage presence… The Barn Players are performing Hamlet tonight… Pah! The special is a ham omelet, a ‘hamelet’...”

Phichit hides behind the paper menu, but glances several times at his idol. Yuri responds,

“I assume it means the play will be heavy and cheesy. I’m ordering the salad.”

“But it comes with two sausages, or dogs, for the Great Dane to duel with... I can’t resist a pun. I must order the special!”

 

Victor is sitting at a side table near the wall. Two young girls and their mom come up to him, smiling and giggling. Victor chats with them easily, signing a paper napkin for them. Chris arrives late, and stands near the back. A teen girl next to him sighs noisily,

“Emma, he’s so pretty! Can he be my boyfriend?”

“Nope, he’s mine, I saw him first,” replies another girl. Chris looks over at the blond man. In the dim light of the barn, Victor glows attractively, his elegant clothes and demeanor garnering looks and comments. Chris finds himself staring as well. A man next to him says,

“You’re in luck.”

“Huh?” says Chris, surprised at his own interest. The man gives him a nudge,

“Victor Nikiforov bats for the same team as you,” explains the man.

“Oh! I’m not gay...” replies Chris, then stares at Victor again. The man snickers.

 

The play begins:

Horatio, a grunge university student, is fishing and encounters a ghost, a white sheet dangling from fishing line. Hamlet is a depressed middle-aged man in a leather jacket, à la James Dean.

“Hey, I recognize the guy playing Hamlet, Jacob Zachary. He said those rude things in the market,” whispers Phichit to Yuri.

Polonius, a fat man in a track suit recites,

“ _To thine own self be true…”_

Hamlet encounters the dangling white sheet.

Ophelia, dressed in a cheerleader outfit, goes crazy and ODs on drugs.

Hamlet confronts his mother, Gertie, and his uncle Claudius by playing a DVD.

By the middle of the play, Jacob Zachary, stumbles on stage, apparently drunk. He picks up a plastic skull, and begins,

“ _To be or not to be… that’s my question? Whether it is nobler in the mine…”_

“Did he say mine instead of mind? He’s digging a hole for himself…” whispers Phichit to Yuri.

“ _To suffer swings and arrows…”_

“Swings instead of slings? He’s a player from a playground…” continues Phichit.

“Shush!” Yuri whispers back.

“He’s saying the words wrong!” hisses Phichit furiously.

“… _of outrageous fortune, or to take arms... To die, to sleep no more, and by sleep... weep and the heart ache and natural shacks…”_

“Shacks? Natural shocks! I’m shocked he can’t remember the word shocks, he looks like he sleeps in shacks,” grumbles Phichit. Yuri elbows him and glares.

“ _To die, to sleep, to dream, that’s the rub. For ...dreams may come, when we shuffle in this mortal soil, please give us pause.”_

“Pause indeed!” exclaims Phichit loudly, standing up. “Even though this is a farm, you shouldn’t butcher the Bard! This tragedy is so tragically bad, it has become a comedy of errors. If this were a high school play, or an amateur theater group, I would applaud politely. But this actor, Jacob Zachary, claims to have trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, and performed in London.”

“I did!” yells Zachary, swaying on stage.

“At best, you’ve performed the subway station near the Academy,” retorts Phichit. “The ramblings of a homeless man would’ve made more sense…”

“And what does... a _monkey_ like you know about Shakespeare?” continues Zachary, putting down the skull.

“A monkey? You insult me, and that’s all you come up with? You could disparage my eating habits, and call me burnt rice. You could say I’m a diminutive Asian fairy, Chinkerbell. You could play on the word Oriental, and call me an Oreo. How about Nuprin? Little, yellow, different. Fingernail rancher because of all the Asian nail salons. Bad Thai noodle? Elephant monger with a tiny trunk…” rails Phichit. Then he hops up onstage, and picks up the plastic skull. He says pensively,

_“To be, or not to be, that is the question:_   
_Whether, ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,_   
_Or..._

_to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them:_

_to die, to sleep no more; and by a sleep, to say we end the heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to?_

‘ _Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep, ...to sleep, perchance to dream; aye, there’s the rub!  
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, ...when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.” _

“You’re a… cocksucker!” yells Zachary, making the motion of going down with his hand.

“ _Thou art a trunk of humours, a bolting-hutch of beastliness, a swollen parcel of dropsies, a huge bombard of sack, a stuffed cloak-bag of guts, a roasted ox with pudding in his belly, a reverend vice, a gray iniquity, a father ruffian, a vanity in years!_ ” Phichit pauses to take a breath. _“I do desire we become better strangers.”_

“Phichit, let’s get out of here,” begs Yuri, worriedly looking around the disgruntled crowd.

“I’m Phichit Chulanont, performing in the woods this week...” announces Phichit, taking a bow, then bounces the plastic skull on the stage with a flourish. An angry customer shouts,

“I want a refund!”

“Me too!”

The crowd is becoming an angry mob. Phichit reaches into his pocket, and throws a wad of twenties into the audience. Phichit jumps down, takes Yuri’s hand, and saunters to the parking lot.

 

“Yuri, I thrust the point home! He looked like an imbecile,” gloats Phichit as they arrive at the car.

“Phichit, I appreciate the grand gesture but... how will we pay our rent?” whines Yuri.

“The theater business is insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster,” quotes Phichit.

“So what do we do?” asks Yuri, with a discouraged sigh.

“Nothing. Strangely, it all turns out well,” replies Phichit gleefully, waiting for Yuri to say the next line. Yuri glares, then dutifully adds,

“But how?”

“I don’t know. It’s a mystery.”

“Quoting _Shakespeare In Love_ won’t help us…” grumbles Yuri.

“Hey, Pink Shirt Hamlet! I want to talk to you,” yells a teenage boy, with a bob of blond hair. “I’m Yuri, Victor Nikiforov’s cousin. Victor wants to see you. Meet him tomorrow at the bakery in town, on Main Street, 9 o’clock.”

The blond teen leaves. Phichit bounces up and down. He sing songs,

“Victor wants an encounter with me! How wondrous! My heart is all a flutter…” and gives Yuri a hug.

“Oh no! I’ve lost my wallet,” cries Yuri, checking his pockets. They both look for the missing item in the car, then Yuri sneaks into the barn, and checks the table. He comes back to the car and recalls,

“I remember using it at the grocery store…”

They jump into the Tercel, then drive to town.

 

Meanwhile, Chris applauds loudly with a few others, then suddenly whips around and grabs a hand.

“You want something?” quizzes Chris with an unpleasant smile. The young man grimaces, caught with Chris’s wallet in his hand.

“Sorry, dude. Look, if you don’t rat on me, I’ll give you a tip,” bargains the youth. Chris nods. “There’s a group of guys hunting fags on main street. Avoid the area. We cool?”

Chris nods again. He searches for that Phichit guy, but he’s already left. Worried, he hurries to his car.

 

Yuri and Phichit drive to town, and park behind the grocery store. They search for the wallet inside, then examine the parking lot.

“I knew this flashlight phone feature was good for something…” exclaims Phichit, showing off his glittery cell phone. Yuri pokes him in the back.

“Phichit… I’m afraid we have company.”

 

Chris parks at the front of the grocery store, and notices a commotion in the back alley. About ten burly youths have cornered two Asian boys, one with a familiar shocking pink shirt. Chris runs forward, then stops. The pink shirt calmly says,

“Fear is the only darkness. Ready, Grasshopper?”

The blue shirt boy nods uncomfortably. One guy lunges forward in a punch. Pink shirt spins around, using the attacker’s momentum to flip him around, hitting several others, then crashing to the ground. Blue shirt spins around another attacker, who finds himself on the ground with his arms pinned behind him. Pink shirt continues turning and spinning, until the attackers are all on the ground. Chris comes forward, while the attackers limp away, cursing. Chris asks,

“Hey, great show tonight, Phichit. I’ll get my first aid kit from my car.”

Phichit looks at Chris puzzled, till he notices his hand is bleeding.

 

Phichit, still giddy about his date tomorrow, barely notices as Chris disinfects the cut, and bandages it up. Then Chris examines his injured hand, moving each finger, and Phichit feels a slight jolt of attraction. He looks up at the tall blond man, surprised.

“You’ve got pretty little hands,” remarks Chris evenly. Phichit scowls, and pulls his hand away.

“I know. Little hands, little penis. Ha ha.” Phichit grumbles. He turns away. Chris hands Yuri a wallet. Yuri examines it, and sighs in relief recognizing his missing money and ID.

“Where did you find it?” questions Yuri.

“In the pocket of a pickpocket,” replies Chris. Yuri frowns, and replies,

“Huh? I don’t quite get… “

But Phichit pushes Yuri to leave and adds,

“Thanks, Chris. We’ll see you at the campground later.”

 

 


	3. Half-Baked

The next morning, Phichit arrives early at _The Poets Lacking Dough_ , a gluten-free bakery. He sits at a table, nervously drumming his fingers. A rotund man with an apron comes over with a ordering pad.

“I’m François. What may I tempt you with from our celestial kitchen?”

Phichit responds apologetically,

“Unfortunately, I can only salivate from a distance. I’m flat broke. I’m waiting for someone. _Most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath,_ A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” quotes Phichit.

“ _Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue_. Hamlet,” replies François, with a pleading excitement. Phichit, sensing an audience, stands up and recites,

“ _Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying..._ _nothing._ Macbeth.”

François claps in delight.

“I will sweeten your breath with a lustrous cake, decorated with an almond fondant, and the most succulent sweet cream filling. On the house!” cries François, holding his hands together in adoration. A woman’s voice is heard from the kitchen.

“ _He hath eaten me out of house and home_! Henry IV!” A redhead come out, brandishing a giant spoon and yells, “That dead poet can warm your bed at night – I’m divorcing you, and leaving you with NOTHING!!”

“Lise, _ma chérie_ , _ma crème brûlée_ , he is an artist… like me,” pleads François. He disappears into the kitchen, then sneaks back later with a piece of cake. “Shush, don’t tell my wife.”

 

Phichit swipes a newspaper from a nearby table, hides behind it, and quickly devours the delicious cake. A distinctive silver haired man walks in and sits down at his table.

“Hallo, I’m Victor. I was quite impressed with your performance last night.”

Phichit drops his fork, and wipes his mouth.

“Ah, sorry about interrupting the show. I’m a bit of a theater snob,” replies Phichit, blinking in disbelief to be talking to his idol. Victor notices the bandage.

“What happened to your hand?” asks Victor.

“I had a run in with some local ruffians,” downplays Phichit.

“I heard 100 men tried to beat up two gay boys, but they knew kung fu. Was that you?” asks Victor, visibly astonished.

“It was only a dozen…” corrects Phichit, wanting to be humble. “Want to see my wound?” offers Phichit, feeling less eloquent than usual. Victor shakes his head, wrinkling his nose.

“I hate the sight of blood. I would faint dead away,” explains Victor, fanning himself with a menu. Phichit stares at the elegant man, admiring his beauty. And his gorgeous elocution…

“So… you asked to see me?” eventually asks Phichit. Victor explains,

“Ah, yes. I’m staging the play _As You like It_ , in an authentic Elizabethan manner. Obviously, we’re not re-creating all aspects of Shakespeare’s time – I’d hate to stop bathing. But I’ll cast only men, and use period costumes. Are you interested in the lead character, Rosalind?”

“There weren’t a whole lot of Thai people in London at that time…” critiques Phichit.

“ _Touché_. I’m more interested in understanding how men portrayed women, than in historical detail,” admits Victor.

“Rosalind… So you want me to play a woman, who dresses up as a boy, and seduces a man? And that man, is attracted to the boy, who is supposed to be a woman, but is being played by a man?” explains Phichit.

“Great! You understand perfectly,” replies Victor with a grin. Phichit shakes himself. This is a dream come true.

“I’m the right man for the job, I enjoy cross-dressing,” affirms Phichit with a grin. Victor nods approvingly, then orders another coffee. Then Victor asks,

“Are you staying at the inn?”

“No, I’m camping.”

Victor shares hesitantly,

“I’m interested in someone. Someone who doesn’t know yet… Someone who admired me from afar last night… but who will soon know how I feel. There’s more…”

“Is that person a… boy, well a man?” clarifies Phichit. He’s a bit lightheaded from the confession. Victor likes him!

“Yes. He’s smart, interesting and an actor.”

“He’s very smart, well, a smart _ass_ at least…” mumbles Phichit.

“Really? It’s strange... he seems perfect. Intelligent, classically handsome… and tall,” adds Victor dreamily. Phichit jerks back and exclaims,

“What!?”

“His name is Christophe Giacometti, he’s camping as well. Would you ask him to the audition?”

“Oh. I see. But… what if he’s an idiot?” sputters Phichit, completely disconcerted.

“He wears glasses, I love men who wear glasses! He must be intelligent... anyway I hope so, I have such a crush on him. Give me your contact info, I’ll send you his photo.” Victor types on his phone. “I must say – I admire your bravery!” he exclaims getting up, and leaves. Phichit watches him go mutely, not having the courage to express his adoration.

“Someone as little as me... is not always so brave,” replies Phichit ruefully.

 

Phichit returns to the campground. He doesn’t to search for the guy in the photograph, Phichit recognized him as his camping neighbor, Chris. Around a nearby campfire, he sees the blonde man drinking a beer with Yuri and another actor friend, Bret.

“It’s the Pink Tornado! Come and have a beer,” calls out Chris. Phichit cringes at the nickname, he usually tolerates no mockery. But Phichit ignores the jibe, grabs a beer, and sits down. Chris continues, “…he’s all skinny, and dresses funny, I was surprised he could fight.”

Yuri reaches out and holds Phichit’s arm, expecting Phichit to explode in anger. But Phichit just clenches his jaw. Yuri and Bret look at him in surprise.

“What kind of martial arts have you done? You must have a pink belt in something?” jokes Chris. Yuri stands, worried there will be another fight. Phichit stays seated, and responds glumly,

“I have a black belt in aikido. Do you have any martial arts training?”

“Jujitsu. They finally gave me some gray belt, just to get me to leave…” says Chris self-deprecatingly. Yuri sits down, stunned. Meanwhile Phichit asks,

“Chris... are you interested in… brotherly bedfellows? Masculine friends?”

“I have lots of friends, but I’ll be friends with you too, if you like,” replies Chris, patting Phichit’s arm. Phichit rolls his eyes at Chris’s lack of comprehension. He tries again,

“Are you a catamite? Pederast? Friend of Dorothy? Poof? Fairy?”

“You’re asking if I’m gay? Nope... ” replies Chris, tilting his head with a frown.

“Ah. Excellent well! I’m to ask you to audition for a play, it seems Victor Nikiforov has a little crush on you…”

“Really? I’ll definitely audition then,” agrees Chris, suddenly smiling. “He’s cool and really good looking.”

Phichit clenches his jaw, and replies,

“Oh… indeed.” Phichit thinks for a moment, then adds, “Don’t wear those glasses, it’s not appropriate for an Elizabethan production.”

 

Chris gets up, and leaves to use the restroom down the road. Bret grabs another beer, and holds it up in Phichit’s direction saying,

“Phichit! I heard about your Pink Tornado fight. You finally got a sense of humor about being the Flaming Queen of Kung Fu…”

Phichit storms over, grabs Bret’s hand, then squeezes and twists it into Bret’s body.

“Ow, ow, ow! Sorry, I take that back,” moans Bret. Phichit releases the hand. Bret shakes his hand out, and grumbles, “You have no sense of humor.”

 

 


	4. Pick a Player

The next morning, Phichit and Yuri head to a clearing in the woods for the audition.

“With all that mayhem last night, I didn’t prepare for the audition. What role should I read for?” asks Yuri, squinting nervously at the script.

“Play the part of my cousin, we look enough alike,” replies Phichit, moving his hips to warm up, and vocalizing, “Laaaa, la la la laaaa, mi mi mi mi miiii.”

“Your cousin? Which character is that…?”

“Yuri, where are your glasses? You won’t read well without them,” scolds Phichit.

 

Victor observes the large crowd of guys waiting to audition, and grins. There’s a dozen main speaking roles, but also some background characters he could cast. Not bad for an amateur production in the American Wild West. Then Victor calls out,

“Welcome to our stage! We’ll be performing _As You Like It,_ a gender bending comedy which happens mostly in the forest of Arden… so these magnificent Oregon pines will be our scenery. People can bring blankets and chairs to watch us perform. Phichit? Would you read for Rosalind?”

Phichit drags Yuri with him and instructs,

“I’m Rosalind, you read Celia’s part.”

“But I’m not a girl…” protests Yuri. Victor hands him some pages of dialogue declaring,

“It’s an all-male production, none of us are girls.”

Yuri gawks at Victor for a moment, then takes the pages. Phichit reads the lines for Rosalind, confident he already has the role. Meanwhile Yuri reads for Celia anxiously. He has trouble projecting, and squints at the paper at arm’s length. A few guys read for Orlando. Then Chris reads the part of Orlando, not particularly well, but using Victor as Rosalind, smiling every time their eyes catch. Victor grins back. Phichit notices Chris isn’t wearing his glasses, but Victor doesn’t seem to care.

 

A bit later, Bret takes Yuri aside, and whispers,

“I was going to read for Orlando, but... uh... I don’t want to be cast opposite Phichit. He’s playing Rosalind, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, Victor saw him do Hamlet last night. For characters, there’s an old Duke, Duke Frederick, Orlando’s brother Oliver, a fool called Touchstone, a shepherd boy called Silvius…” enumerates Yuri, reading slowly from the script.

“I’ll audition for the shepherd boy, cool, thanks!” replies Bret.

 

A young woman with striking dark looks approaches the group of men. Bret gapes at her, another guy whistles.

“I want the role of Jaques de Boys,” announces the new arrival. Victor shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, but we’re doing a all-male production,” replies Victor apologetically.

“Why?” she demands.

“Because in Shakespeare’s time, only men were actors. It was illegal for women be onstage. And a playwright would have played on that factor, which hopefully will be revealed as we perform.”

“You’re trying to highlight gender ambiguity? Gender fluidity? Won’t a woman playing a man do the same thing?”

“Who are you?” questions Victor.

“Judith Shakespeare, sister to the Bard,” she answers, in an angry tone. Victor tilts his head at that answer, the woman is probably referring to William Shakespeare’s sister in a feminist novel.

“Her name is Sara Crispino, she was a member of Bare Truth Theater,” introduces Chris. Victor shrugs his shoulders.

“Audition for the role. Then we’ll see,” acquiesces Victor. Bret runs over, and gives her his script. Sara takes the paper and gives a confident smirk towards Chris.

 

Sara begins Jaques’s most famous soliloquy,

“ _All the world’s a stage... and all the men and WOMEN merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, a_ _nd one man in his time plays many parts...”_ she says, grabbing her crotch. A young brunette man burst onto the stage area and rants,

“Enough Sara! How can you act this way? All my life you’ve been my sweet sister, but now you have a tattoo, do indecent plays... Are you on drugs? What happened to the good Catholic girl I knew…?”

“Mike, I’m not 12! Stop following me and get a girlfriend!” screams Sara. Mike stands there furious, and retaliates with,

“Macbeth!” he yells at her, “Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth! As my twin, what I do rebounds on you.”

Sara retorts,

“How dare you curse me with the name of the Scottish Play!” She looks around at the other actors. “Does it count? Do the trees count as a theater? I don’t want a disaster to befall me…” she pleads. Phichit chimes in helpfully,

“Victor declared this was a stage, and in your soliloquy, you said _all the world’s a stage_ , so this becomes a natural theater.”

“I hate you, Mickey!” shrieks Sara, stomping off into the woods. She turns around three times, spits, then says a bunch of swear words. Mike shrugs, and does a half-hearted imitation of his sister. Victor holds his head, muttering something about actors and superstitions. Chris groans, turns to Phichit and asks,

“Phichit, why did you insist it was a theater? We’re in the woods…”

“In order to cure the curse, she must wait to be invited back to the stage. We need a break from that drama queen,” explains Phichit with a flourish of his arm.

 

Victor paces, waiting to resume the auditions. He whispers to Yuri,

“I hate this kind of discord – do you have siblings?”

“I have an older sister, but we get along. What about you?”

“I’m an only child, I’m rather glad of it…” confides Victor. “Sara said she wanted to play Jacques du Boy, but she read the part of melancholy Jaques. Should I tell her she’s confused two roles? The twins seem to be decent actors, but I’d prefer not to cast them – we only need twins if we’re doing _Twelfth Night_!”

Yuri covers his mouth with his hand, hiding a giggle. Victor smiles as well. Then he says loudly, “Let’s continue. Who would like to read for the role of Le Beau?”

 

Chris reluctantly walks over to Sara and asks,

“Why are you here? We’re not together anymore...”

Sara stares stubbornly at the ground, then she responds,

“I’m not here for you. Nikiforov is a famous actor, he has lots to teach. Plus he’s cute.”

“He’s gay...” Chris stops as Mike comes over, and hovers in between Sara and Chris, looking at them both suspiciously. Chris rolls his eyes and says sarcastically,

“Hi, Mike. Always great to see you.”

 

The auditions continue, and Victor casts several roles: an older guy Frank as Duke Frederick, a dark curly haired man named Aaron as Silvius the shepherd, and a beefy guy named Chuck as Charles the wrestler.

 

Back at the campground, Yuri complains to Phichit,

“We don’t have much food. Call your father for a loan, since you tossed away our cash.”

Chris ambles over, offering,

“I’ve got plenty. Come over and eat.”

Phichit makes a beeline for Chris, and says argumentatively,

“Why do you wear plaid shirts? To mark yourself as a motley fool?”

“Huh? What do fools have to to do with plaid?” asks Chris, turning some sausages on the grill.

“Motley is the pattern of the jester,” explains Phichit.

“You’re wearing an pink striped shirt, and I’m the jester?” retorts Chris.

“Did you flirt with Victor just to get the role?” demands Phichit.

“No. I flirted with Victor to get the role, _and_ because he’s attractive. I think I like guys too.”

“You think? You’re not sure?” repeats Phichit, incredulous.

“I’ve been too busy with girls to notice...”

“Great. You’re a damned horny goat, willing to rut with anyone. I hate bisexuals,” grumbles Phichit.

“Maybe I’m trisexual, I’ll try anything…” jokes Chris. Phichit face palms.

“That tired old line. How did Victor learn of you anyway?” demands Phichit.

“I was Claudio in a production of _Much Ado About Nothing_ in Central Park. He messaged me online about this play.”

“Claudio? So you played an attractive jock. Big deal. I played Benedict in the Pacific Community College auditorium.”

Phichit gets close to Chris and pokes him in the chest reciting one of Benedict’s lines,

“ _Why in faith, methinks you’re too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford you, that were you other than you are, you were unhandsome; and being no other but as you are – I_ _ **do not**_ _like you_.”

Phichit becomes distracted by the firm muscles beneath his hand. Chris probably looks great without his shirt on… Phichit shakes himself, then takes a sip of soda.

“It was a production of Bare Truth Theater, all the actors were naked,” adds Chris. Phichit spews out his soda in surprise, causing Chris to chuckle.

 

Later that evening, Phichit hides in his tent, and surfs online for the Bare Truth Theater. There’s a breathtaking photo of Chris, wearing only body paint, reciting a line.

“Alas, someone’s head is obscuring his manhood…” deplores Phichit. “Why did someone give you the body of Adonis and the brains of a Neanderthal?”

Yuri enters the tent and asks,

“What are you looking at? Are you still searching for love on _Findr_?”

“No, this is my competition. I’m doomed to never be loved because this Greek god walks amongst us mortals…”

“Hey, that’s Chris! Why’s he naked?” asks Yuri, putting on his glasses to peer at the photo.

 

 


	5. Trials and Beggars

The next morning, all the actors assemble around Victor in a clearing of the woods. Victor leads body warm-ups and vocal exercises, which Phichit does with verve and flair. Then Victor announces,

“This is a Herculean task! We have barely two weeks til our first performance, so we must rehearse every waking moment. Learning Shakespeare’s lines can be daunting, but in the 1600s, the players performed a different play every day of the week! I’ve put your lines in prose form, to emphasize speaking normally...”

“When do we get paid?” one actor demands loudly. Victor replies,

“This is an amateur thespian exercise, with a strong emphasis on teaching the craft of...”

“No pay!? I’m broke, I can’t waste my time on this shit!” exclaims the actor angrily, leaving the stage. Several actors discuss among themselves for a minute, then wander off. Victor reassigns some roles and crosses off minor ones.

 

Victor regroups and explains,

“Here’s the main story of the play. Oliver inherited his father’s property, but doesn’t give his younger brother Orlando any money or education. They fight. Oliver hires Charles the wrestler to kill his brother in a wrestling match, but Orlando wins. Orlando meets Rosalind, and they instantly fall for each other. Meanwhile, Duke Frederick has become the Duke by forcing his older brother into the forest. Duke Frederick shows up at the wrestling match, ready to reward the winner. But Orlando’s father used to support the deposed Duke, so Duke Frederick threatens Orlando. Orlando flees for the forest.

Meanwhile, Duke Frederick worries about the influence of Rosalind, his niece, on his daughter Celia. He banishes Rosalind from court, she escapes to the forest with Celia, her cousin, and Touchstone, a fool. Rosalind, dressed as a boy, meets Orlando. She coaches him how to get over his love sickness by making Orlando pretend she’s Rosalind!

Duke Frederick sends Oliver into the forest to kill Orlando. While Oliver sleeps under a tree, he’s attacked by a snake and a lion. Orlando saves Oliver. Oliver falls for Celia. In the end, Orlando marries Rosalind, Oliver marries Celia. So far, Phichit will be playing fair Rosalind, and Yuri will be playing Celia.”

“Victor, will you be playing Orlando to my Rosalind?” inquires Phichit, scarcely able to breathe.

“Christophe has agreed to be Orlando de Boys, I will be Oliver de Boys, who falls in love with Celia,” replies Victor. Phichit nods, disappointed.

“Let’s read through the text several times. Even though we’re reading, make eye contact with the person you’re acting with, and listen to each other!” advises Victor.

 

Victor and Chris do the opening scene, playing the older and younger brother.

“ _Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?_ ” cries Victor as Oliver. Chris reads Orlando’s part,

“ _I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Were... Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself.”_

“Chris, in your anger with me, your older brother, you push me to the ground. Let’s practice that so that you don’t injure me…” says Victor, playfully tugging on Chris’s arm, then feeling up the muscle appreciatively. Chris smiles back.

 

Phichit sits nearby, watching the two blond men playfully wrestle to the ground. Yuri comes next to him.

“Are you okay?” asks Yuri solicitously. Phichit throws his arms in the air.

“As much as I can be, watching them flirt. I can’t do much about being short and dark. But I thought Victor would cast himself in the lead as Orlando opposite me… Oliver is a smaller part,” complains Phichit. Yuri counters,

“Victor is probably playing the less demanding role in order to direct everyone else.”

 

Victor returns to the center of the stage and instructs,

“In Shakespeare, there’s no subtext. The words express the thoughts and ideas of the moment.

 _– To be or not to be, that is the question_.

That line tells us what the soliloquy is about. In this play, a side character explains the situation at court.” Victor reads Charles’s line,

“ _There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander.”_

 

Meanwhile Phichit whispers to Yuri,

“I want to work more intimately with Victor… maybe I should play Celia, Oliver’s love interest. Switch roles with me!” pleads Phichit. “I hate to give up Rosalind, but shouldn’t I sacrifice for love?”

Yuri protests in a panicked tone,

“But I’m not ready for the lead role…”

But Phichit walks over to Victor and entreats,

“Rosalind says of herself: ‘ _Were it not better, because that I am more than common_ _ **tall**_ _, that I did suit me all points like a man?’_ Victor, I’m the shortest one here, perhaps Yuri should portray Rosalind…”

“You’re right, usually tall actresses play the role, but Yuri seems shy and doesn’t have your stage presence. Just say the line ironically…” replies Victor, busily writing notes on his script.

 

Victor takes the stage by himself, and everyone turns to watch him.

“We’re not sure why Oliver hates his brother so much, but his words about Orlando are chilling.”

Victor turns away for a moment, and when he turns back towards them, his usual cheerfulness is gone. As Oliver he says angrily,

“ _Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him;_ … _for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he’s gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether... misprised:”_

Victor pauses,

“ – _but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither; which now I’ll go about.”_

Victor sounds threatening, it feels like he means to do harm. Yuri shivers in response, while Phichit claps enthusiastically, and a few join him.

 

Victor sets the next scene,

“Rosalind has lost her position in court, but stays for her cousin Celia. There’s much affection between these two women. But there are differences: Celia just wants to be with Rosalind, while Rosalind is searching for love. So Yuri, turn continuously towards Phichit as you talk. Phichit, walk away several times.”

Yuri as Celia pouts,

“ _Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee...”_

Their discourse goes back and forth, until Phichit as Rosalind stops avoiding Yuri, then hugs him. Then he says,

“ _From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love?”_

Yuri adds hugging back,

“ _Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport_ neither than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again.”

Victor claps, obviously pleased.

“Good! You two obviously have a warm relationship that is being communicated into these roles.”

_“We’re inseparable, we are two branches grafted to the same root,” explains Phichit, hugging Yuri again. Yuri smiles back._

 

Next they rehearse the scene of Rosalind and Celia leaving the court. Victor explains,

“Rosalind is banished from court, her cousin Celia decides to leave with her. They plan to escape to the forest of Arden, Rosalind dressed as a boy, Celia as a peasant girl.”

Phichit continues as Rosalind,

“ _I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page; and therefore look you call me Ganymede. But what will you be called?_ ”

Yuri replies as Celia,

“ _Something that hath a reference to my state... no longer Celia, but Aliena._ ”

“Victor, isn’t Ganymede the name of one of Jupiter’s moons?” questions Phichit. Victor grins, then explains,

“Ganymede was so beautiful, Zeus or Jove, made him his cupbearer, and by cupbearer, I mean _lover_. The ancient Greeks based their older man/younger man relationships on that example.”

“So Rosalind is giving herself a homosexual man’s name?” clarifies Phichit, his eyes wide.

“Yes, foreshadowing that she, as Ganymede, will be attracted to Orlando. Notice what Rosalind first says as Ganymede...

“ _O **Jupiter** , how weary are my spirits!” _replies Phichit with a laugh. “Jupiter is another name for Jove...”

“Aliena means stranger,” adds Victor towards Yuri.

“That works!” exclaims Phichit. “I’m gay and Yuri’s strange.”

“I am not!” grumbles Yuri.

 

Then Frank, as the usurping Duke Frederick, reads his line,

“ _Send to his brother. Fetch that gallant hither. If he be absent, bring his brother to me. I’ll make him find him. Do this suddenly, and let not search and inquisition quail to bring again these foolish runaways.”_

Now it’s Phichit’s turn to shiver, he whispers to Yuri,

“That Duke is after us!”

“He’s after Rosalind and Celia, not us.”

“The Duke sounds like my dad. Do you think my dad’s looking for us?” worries Phichit.

“You didn’t tell your father we went camping?” yelps Yuri. Phichit shakes his head.

“Not exactly... I implied I was attending a ‘financially improving seminar’...” confesses Phichit. Yuri grimaces, not happy with the deception.

“I’m not lying for you, if your father asks me directly,” warns Yuri. “He’s scary when he’s mad.”

 

That evening, Chris invites Phichit, Yuri and Bret over to his campsite for dinner. Chris cheerfully grills some corn with forest mushrooms, while Yuri is buried in his script, desperately memorizing his lines. Phichit glances at his lines, then paces back and forth, pondering how to stand out in tomorrow’s rehearsal. Bret is peering at his script anxiously. Chris asks Bret,

“Difficult lines?”

“I was hoping to be a shepherd boy. Instead, I’m a shepherd girl, Phoebe,” complains Bret.

“You don’t feel comfortable playing a girl?” questions Chris.

“Not really. Plus, kind of sucks to be an ugly girl…” adds Bret, checking out his reflection with a sigh.

 

Around midnight, Chris wakes up to the sound of shuffling in his tent. He grabs a flashlight, and turns it on in the intruder’s face.

“Sara? What are you doing here?” asks Chris, stifling a yawn. She takes the flashlight and shines it on her nude breasts.

“You always liked it when I show up naked…” she says suggestively, throwing her shirt at him. Chris hesitates, then throws it back.

“Sara... we’ve done this before... more sex won’t change how I feel.”

“Why don’t you ever fall in love? You drift through life untouched, using women like Kleenex. I’m not a used snotty tissue!” Sara rages dramatically, stomping on the shirt. Chris picks it up, hands her the shirt, and calmly replies,

“I never said you were. Go back to your tent.”

 

Sometime later, Phichit wakes up, and yelps. Yuri bolts upward. Sara turns the flashlight into her face.

“Sorry… I’m here to talk to him,” she explains, pointing at Yuri. Phichit looks at her in disbelief and says,

“In the middle of the night?”

Sara seems to realize her story is ridiculous, and admits,

“I’m sort of lost. All the tents look the same in the dark. Except for yours. Yuri, would you help me?”

“Uh sure, but... I doubt I could find your tent in the dark,” answers Yuri with a yawn. Phichit pats Yuri’s head. He grabs his sleeping bag, and leaves the tent, telling them,

“Sara can use my pad and that blanket. I’ll find other accommodations.”

Yuri calls out to him,

“Where are you going? There’s room enough for three...”

 

Phichit walks over to Chris’s tent. It’s a comfortable size for two people, and Phichit is pretty sure that Chris is camping alone.

“Knock knock,” sings songs Phichit outside the opening.

“I’m not having sex with you,” Chris calls out.

“I’m not here to make the beast with two backs, I’m here to avoid it!” Phichit calls back. The tent zipper opens up. Chris pokes his head out, like he’s looking for wild animals.

“The coast is clear, come in,” says Chris, opening the tent flap. Inside there’s an inflatable mattress covered with a double sleeping bag. Phichit puts his sleeping bag on it and crawls in.

“Why are you sleeping here?” asks Chris nonchalantly. Phichit explains,

“Yuri has a female visitor, without me he has the opportunity to... sheath his dagger and die.”

“I get the dagger in sheath metaphor, but why’s he dying?” asks Chris.

“To die was an euphemism for orgasm. If you read Romeo and Juliet with that in mind, it’s more dirty than romantic.”

Chris gets back into bed and responds,

“So, Yuri might be getting laid? Tents are a cool place for that. But don’t let anyone tell you that beaches are romantic. Once you’ve got sand in your crotch, nothing is fun. Neither is making out in the waves. Saltwater is awful. I was once busy kissing someone, when I got hit by a wave. Did you know swallowing seawater gives you the runs?”

Phichit shakes his head and replies,

“Oh, that’s disappointing. I need to re-imagine my perfect honeymoon. I’m hoping to travel one day, all around the world. But for now, I’m saving up for acting school. My parents refuse to pay for it, but they’re supporting me by giving me cheap rent in their garage. That’s where I live with Yuri. Have you traveled?”

“Totally. Traveling is intense. It’s uncomfortable, weird food, scary toilets and amazing people. Kind of like acting.”

“I want to hike up Machu Picchu, dog sled in Alaska, skydive in New Zealand, and ride a motorcycle through Morocco. I have all these dreams, but... maybe I’ll just remain a wordy waiter.”

“I’ve a good feeling about it. You’re smart, talented and… what’s the right word? Adorable?”

“Oh yuck. I want to be a leading man like you. I hate to compliment you, but you have a sexy stage presence. If you studied acting, you’d be good. If you don’t, you could be a Hollywood star.”

Chris laughs.

“ ‘Night, Phichit.”

“ _ _Good-night__ _, sweet prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest._ Hamlet.”

“I like the sound of that. When does Hamlet say that?”

There is a silence. Then Phichit admits,

“Horatio says that over Hamlet’s dead body.”

“So I’m dead? But you haven’t even gone down on me…” jokes Chris. Phichit swats at Chris, turns away from him, and goes to sleep.

 


	6. The Affair of the Necklace

The next morning, Phichit gets up early and sneaks a peek into Yuri’s tent. Yuri is alone. Phichit enters and rifles through his suitcase. For the second day of rehearsals, Phichit wants to outshine the competition. He pulls out all his clothes, finally choosing a purple sparkly shirt with an ombré design. Yuri startles awake.

“Aah! Oh, you scared me,” mumbles Yuri.

“What happened last night? Did you and Sara…?”

Yuri rubs his eyes like he didn’t get enough sleep, and replies,

“It’s confidential. You know I don’t discuss personal matters.”

“At least, tell me if you _want_ to get personal with Sara,” retorts Phichit. Phichit leaves the tent, and begins to rummage for cereal. Then he catches a whiff of dough cooking and investigates Chris’s campsite.

“You’re making pancakes?” inquires Phichit, salivating at the sight.

“I made them before I left, and put them in my cooler. They don’t keep, so you better get Yuri to eat as well.”

Chris serves Phichit a stack of pancakes, then pours maple syrup on it.

“Are you going to prom?” asks Chris, fingering the sparkly material of Phichit’s shirt.

“The male purple finch, _Haemorhous purpureus_ , is known for its vibrant plumage. I plan to get noticed today. I see you’re wearing another plaid garment. Do you shop at Lumberjack Liquidators?”

Chris laughs. Yuri shows up behind him.

“One pancake, no syrup please,” requests Yuri politely.

“There’s plenty, and we need to eat them all!” encourages Chris.

“I need to watch my weight, especially if I’m going to fit in a bodice and skirt...” sighs Yuri, looking enviously at the other plates.

 

After breakfast, they continue with rehearsals.

 _“ Let’s read through the text. After that, I’ll suggest some blocking,” begins Victor. They get to the part where _Orlando wrestles Charles. Chris takes off his shirt and wrestles Chuck. Yuri looks over and sees Victor, Phichit and Sara staring in admiration. Chris playfully flexes his muscles towards his audience. Yuri shakes his head, and Sara whispers to him,

“The sight of two half naked men isn’t to your liking? Perhaps you can’t see them without your glasses,” patting the case in his pocket.

“I’m farsighted. Also, I’m not blind to your feelings towards Chris,” responds Yuri. “Isn’t he why you’re still here even though you didn’t get cast?”

Sara looks sad, then throws her arms around him. Yuri stiffens.

“Perhaps you can be my antidote,” she coos in his ear. Mike immediately shows up, forcibly sitting between the two of them. Sara looks angrily at Mike, while Yuri escapes to do the next scene.

 

The play continues. Rosalind gives Orlando her necklace for good luck. Victor hands Phichit a lanyard that says _Go Ducks_ to use as a necklace. Phichit looks up at how taller Chris is, and complains,

“Do I stand on a rock to put the necklace around his neck?”

Victor shrugs.

“Let’s try that,” says Victor unhelpfully. Phichit finds a rock, far from their stage area. Then he gives up up and returns to center stage. Christophe plops down on his knees, and Phichit says his line again,

“ _Gentleman, wear this for me…_ This looks silly, am I knighting him?”

Victor chides him,

“Phichit… This is a crucial moment for the play. Rosalind and Orlando fall in love, and this will drive the rest of the story. So don’t rush to the next line. Stop. Look into his eyes.”

“ _Gentleman_ ,” says Phichit placing the lanyard around Chris’s neck. “ _Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, that could give more, but that her hand lacks means.”_

Phichit looks into Chris’s eyes, no, Orlando’s eyes. I’m Rosalind. And Orlando is… a doof. He’s strong and stupid and… Phichit imagines Victor’s face instead.

“ _Shall we go, coz_?” continues Phichit to Yuri, turning away and leaving the stage for a moment.

“ _Aye. Fare you well, fair gentleman_ ,” adds Yuri, joining Phichit. Chris stands there, eyes upward, frowning. Then he says, trying to remember the line,

“ _Can I not say, thank you?… My parts are thrown… I stand here like a kitten, hard as a rock…”_

Phichit fumes in anger. He yells the proper line to him,

“ _Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts are all thrown down, and that which here stands up is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block_.”

Victor motions to continue. Phichit says to Yuri,

“ _He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes; I’ll ask him what he would...”_

Then Phichit says irritably to Chris,

“ _Did you call, sir? Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown more than your enemies._ ”

“ _Will you go, coz?_ ” questions Yuri, worriedly looking at Phichit.

“ _Have with you. Fare you well_ ,” adds Phichit dismissively, as Yuri exits the stage.

“ _What passion ate… my tongue? I can’t speak_ … the rest of my lines,” Chris finishes lamely.

“ _What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! Or Charles or something weaker masters thee,_ ” prompts Phichit. Then Phichit leaves again, glad to be done with that scene. Victor, watching from the sidelines, calls out,

“That needs more work. You two need to convey some romantic emotions.”

 

Phichit marches back to the campground completely exasperated. He grabs the script, and shakes it in Chris’s face.

“You said you were a rock hard kitten... That makes no sense! Are you so distracted with flirting that you aren’t learning your lines? Yuri may lack emotion in his delivery, but you haven’t even learned your lines for the day!” rages Phichit. Chris shakes his head.

“I went over them, again and again, they just don’t stick. The word sounds cool, but... I don’t understand what I’m saying.”

“But you’ve performed Shakespeare before, didn’t you? How did you manage?” demands Phichit.

“I was naked. No one cared if I said the words right,” explains Chris. Phichit recites one of Rosalind’s lines,

“ _Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts are all thrown down, and that which here stands up is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block_.”

“Why does Orlando say he’s a kitten?” puzzles Chris. Phichit roars back,

“A _quintain_ is a post, used for hitting with a sword. You’re a dumb post, and Rosalind’s words are hitting your heart like sword cuts.”

“Oh. Yeah... you, I mean, she, Rosalind, is intense.”

Phichit continues,

“ _Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown more than your enemies._ That means Orlando has won the fight, but also won Rosalind. S _omething weaker masters thee_ means Orlando’s falling in love, the ‘weaker sex’, a woman, is mastering him.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Can we redo the whole scene? This is really helping,” observes Chris, grabbing his script. Phichit practices looping the lanyard around Chris’s neck. They rehearse their lines till they get tired. Phichit goofs off, lassoes Chris like a calf, and Chris plays along, moaning,

“Moooooooo!”

“I’ve captured _Bovine-_ ando, I’m _udderly_ in love...” simpers Phichit.

“I’m irresista- _bull_ ,” roars Chris.

“ _Manure_ bad at puns!” adds Phichit, then they collapse, giggling. Phichit wags his finger at Chris. 

“ _To trifle with the vocabulary which is the vehicle of social intercourse is to tamper with the currency of human intelligence... He who would violate the sanctities of his Mother Tongue would invade the recesses of the paternal till without remorse._ ”

“Whoa. Shakespeare?”

“Never. Samuel Johnson, author of the 1755 Dictionary of the English Language.” 

“What a _boar_! Let’s hit the _hay_ ,” replies Chris, throwing the lanyard back at Phichit.

 

 


	7. Gone Fishing

The next morning, the cast gathers for rehearsal, but several more actors are missing. Victor paces back and forth, grumbling. Yuri checks in on him,

“What’s the problem?”

“The people I picked for _Jaques, the elder Duke and Touchstone_ have decided not to stay and go to some… music festival. Also, our stage area is under maintenance by the forest service. Oh, and the theater company in Ashland called – they require a ridiculously large deposit for the costumes,” explains Victor, discouraged. Chris suggests,

“I know a great fishing spot. Let’s go for a hike, get to know one another.”

“It will give us time to find some solutions,” adds Yuri.

Victor seems disconcerted by at missing rehearsal. He hesitates, then decides,

“Everyone put on some comfortable shoes, and maybe bring a nibble? We’ll meet here for the hike, afterwards we’ll work on memorizing lines,” announces Victor, smiling at the handsome Christophe.

 

Most cast members wander off – only Phichit, Yuri, and Chris show up. Victor arrives for the hike dressed like he’s going on safari, with a crisp tan shirt with pockets and matching shorts. He is also wearing a tan wide brimmed hat, and carrying a wicker picnic basket. Next to him is a skinny teenager with blond hair, all dressed in black. Victor introduces the teen with a crisped expression,

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Yuri Plisetsky, also from London. He’s joining us today, but he’ll be returning to camp. Tomorrow. Definitely.”

Everyone waves to the teenager.

“Another Yuri? We already got one. You could be... Dark Yuri...?” proposes Phichit.

“I’m blond,” snarls the teenager.

“I meant your clothes. You look like an Oreo, dark on the outside, white filling. Oreo Yuri, Yuri-o!”

“Yes, it suits him,” acknowledges Victor, and Phichit perks up, pleased. They begin walking. Victor sternly asks his cousin,

“Why are you here? The camp called, said you disappeared...”

Yurio shrugs, and mutters,

“Was stupid.”

Victor asks several more questions, only to get grunts in reply. Victor relents and sighs.

 

An hour later, they arrive on the sandy shores of a river. Chris sets out some fishing poles. Victor taps a pole dubiously, then keeps his distance. Yurio looks disgruntled. Phichit approaches the teenager.

“So why are you visiting Oregon?” questions Phichit, threading the line on a fishing pole.

“Victor already said. I’ve been at a camp,” grumbles Yurio.

“Stupendous! Does it have a theme? Archery, canoeing, or maybe an art program?” continues Phichit.

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” mumbles Yurio. Phichit abandons the sulky teen, and helps Chris with the bait. Then he says to Chris, 

“Odd, kids usually like me, I’ve worked at a summer camp before…” He murmurs to himself, _“Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.”_ Phichit motions to Victor. “Here, this pole is ready. Do you know how to cast?”

Victor takes it reluctantly, holding it with the tips of his fingers. Phichit shows him the motion of swinging the pole, so the hook flies to the middle of the stream. Victor does a graceful imitation, but sends the hook flying in the wrong direction, and it gets caught in Phichit’s shirt.

“Ouch!” yells Phichit.

“Terribly sorry…” apologizes Victor. Chris untangles them, casts the line out, and hands the pole to Victor. Victor smiles in return. Phichit rubs his shoulder, then sullenly casts his own line.

“I’m feeling lucky,” says Chris, “I’m going to catch the biggest fish.”

“Pish posh, I’ll do better,” replies Phichit competitively.

“Let’s wager… if I win, I get to do the cooking,” offers Chris.

“What does the loser do?” asks Phichit, recasting his line.

“Clean the fish,” replies Chris, beaming. Victor turns extremely pale.

 

An hour later, Chris is grilling some trout. Victor sits next to Chris, watching. Phichit finishes cleaning and gutting the fish, then washes himself in the river. Victor avoids looking in that direction. Chris examines the fillets, and nods approvingly. He gives Victor a piece on some foil.

“Delicious! I adore eating, I wish I could cook…” exclaims Victor. Phichit turns towards him surprised.

“You can’t cook?” questions Phichit. Yurio snorts and recalls,

“Victor can burn anything. He once put a pot of water to boil, and it all evaporated, and then the pot burned.”

“So what are you good at?” continues Phichit. Victor tilts his head, then replies,

“I have good voice projection, I can express emotion. I transform into any role. I have confidence and stage presence, and most of all, I enjoy acting so much, that my enthusiasm is communicated to the audience.”

“In other words… acting, acting, acting, and acting. And mum is worried about my future?” complains Yurio. Yuri chimes in,

“Phichit is good at everything. Every time we’d try something new, like ice skating or snowboarding, Phichit would quickly zoom off like a pro; while I spent my time falling on ice, falling on snow…”

Phichit adds,

“Yuri is a good sport. Once he helped me make a zip line from clothes lines from my house to his, and I fell into the neighbor’s pool. Another time, I built a catapult and pelted my dad’s car with tomatoes, and he helped me clean the mess. Oh, remember the time I tried to float off the roof with a bunch of helium balloons…”

Chris laughs and comments,

“I wish I’d grown up with you two, it sounds fun.” Then he looks around, “Who wants to go swimming?”

Without waiting for an answer, Chris pulls off all his clothes, and dives into the river. Victor is relieved at a less disgusting activity. He undresses, then carefully folds each item of clothing and places the pile on a rock. Then he wades in. Phichit stands there, his mouth agape. Yuri closes Phichit’s mouth and whispers,

“Stop staring. You can daydream about this later…”

Yuri takes off his own clothes, then slowly gets in as well. Phichit rubs his hands, undecided. He glances over at the skinny teenager.

“Fuck no,” replies Yurio. Phichit looks at the handsome muscled bodies in the water, then glances down at his skinny frame. He finds a large tree, undresses, then does a huge cannonball into the water. The four of them splash around, enjoying the cold water on a warm day.

 

When they come out of the water, Victor calls out for his cousin, but the teenager is nowhere to be found.

“We should search for him, neither of us knows much about the woods,” announces Victor, obviously worried. They dress quickly. Phichit and Yuri go off alone, while Chris and Victor walk back towards the campground. Phichit tracks through the woods at breakneck pace. Hopefully, he will find the lost brat, and impress Victor. He has to do something to show himself better than Chris.

 

Following a hunch, Yuri takes a northward path which goes up in elevation. He comes across the teenager, sitting on a gigantic boulder.

“I figured you’d go upwards, trying to get cell phone reception,” says Yuri.

“Yeah,” grunts Yurio. They sit on the rock quietly, enjoying the sun.

“You and your cousin Victor live in London, why do you have Russian names?” questions Yuri.

“Our mums are English, our dads are Russian,” replies Yurio.

“And, your cousin Victor has taken time off, during the busiest acting season, to take you to camp on another continent?” asks Yuri offhandedly.

“None of your business.”

“I know Camp Pinewood, it’s for at risk youth. Kids who’ve gotten in trouble with the law, or with drugs. My sister went there, she had a drug addiction. Your cousin Victor is a great actor, but I doubt he’s rich. I don’t know how he could afford that camp.”

“My mum is paying for the camp. I’m not into drugs, school’s a waste. They think I’m a criminal ’coz I don’t waste my time in classrooms.”

“But why in the United States? Why Oregon?”

“You’re really nosy, you know that?” snipes Yurio.

“Sorry, I’m curious,” replies Yuri. Yuri sees the kid check his phone, and notices a photo of a guy with a dark crew cut.

“Who’s he? Whoa, he’s dangerously handsome,” exclaims Yuri. Yurio scrunches his face in anger. Then he blurts out,

“I saw him online, he’s supposed to be a counselor at the camp, Otabek Altin,” looking at the pic with barely concealed excitement.

“Ah. He didn’t show?”

“No. But he seems really cool, not like the jerks at home…” replies Yurio. Yuri checks something on his phone, then puts it to his ear.

“Yes, may I speak with Mr Altin?”

Yurio shakes his head desperately, whispering,

“Don’t tell them it’s from me....!”

“I see. Thank you. No, no message, I’ll contact him at a later time,” replies Yuri, hanging up.

“Crap! What did they say?!”

“He had a family matter, but he’s back tomorrow...”

Yurio turns pink and kicks the ground. He changes the subject. They chat for a while, then head back.

 

Victor and Christophe walk through the woods, Victor calling out ‘Yuri-o’ periodically. Christophe says nothing.

“So… you like fishing?” asks Victor. Christophe nods.

“You?”

“Ah. It was… memorable. You like… nature?” echoes Victor, not knowing what to say.

“Definitely. I like gathering from the wild. Mushrooms, berries,” explains Christophe.

“Oh.”

There’s a long silence, and Victor remarks,

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“I like the quiet of the woods,” replies Christophe with a shrug. Victor nods. Christophe must be a deep thinker, a sensitive poet.

 

Victor glances backwards and sees his cousin walking towards them. He hugs him in relief.

“That wasn’t a very sensible thing to do,” chastises Victor.

“Oh, don’t start…” groans Yurio, running ahead of the group. Yuri waits for Yurio to be out of earshot.

“I talked with your cousin,” begins Yuri.

“You did? Usually he refuses to communicate with people,” acknowledges Victor, looking surprised.

“It’s none of my business, but... he’s very interested in music. A school with a music program might motivate him to attend the rest of his classes…” recommends Yuri.

“Thanks for the advice, he only grunts at me,” replies Victor, looking skyward helplessly.

“So you’re a Shakespearean actor…” continues Yuri, sounding curious.

“Ah, yes. When I was a teenager, I read the complete works. I was amazed at the variety of stories. And then there was the language… _When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, and look upon myself, and curse my fate...”_

“Sounds like you were a troubled teen too…”

“A gay teen. I felt Shakespeare had looked into my soul, and understood me.” Victor stops, and glances over at Yuri. “I see why my cousin confided in you, you’re easy to talk to...”

 

Phichit hikes a huge distance, then climbs a tree to get cell phone service. He receives a message that the others are all back at the campground.

“By God’s nose, I’ve been dealt bad cards…” mutters Phichit. He returns to the campsite, grabs a chair and sits next to Chris.

“Alack, I’m helpless against the tangled web of fate. I’ll help you in your quest,” announces Phichit. Chris gets up, and holds up a beer. Phichit shakes his head. Chris hands him a mineral water and says,

“Do you always talk like that? You sound like those kids who play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I’m twenty years old! I have a sound appreciation for the intricacies and diversity of the English language, I love poetry and prose, the sound of beautiful words evokes such tremors…”

“In other words, you’re a virgin. If you were doing it, you’d talk less,” asserts Chris. Phichit clenches his fists.

“You have the amazing ability to rub me the wrong way,” growls Phichit. Chris stands up, grabs his first aid kit, and opens Phichit’s bandaged hand. He removes the tape, and checks the cut. He puts on a clean dressing, and tapes it back up. Again, he moves each finger. Phichit feels his mouth go dry, mesmerized by the touch. He wonders what Chris’s hands might feel like caressing the rest of his body... Fie. He must need a boyfriend badly to be attracted to this oaf.

“I need to learn to rub you the right way,” replies Chris with a wink.

 

Late that evening, Phichit is still sitting next to Chris, staring up at the stars.

“So… what’s your next move?” quizzes Phichit. Chris turns his head towards Phichit and asks,

“What do you mean?”

“With Victor… will you send him flowers? Write him a note?”

“Oh, Victor… I don’t do gifts. I could ask him to spend the night in my tent. He’s not at the campground though, he’s staying at a place in town. He’s not very outdoorsy.”

“Nay, I’ll not hear of it! You must write him… Where’s your phone?” demands Phichit. Chris hands over his phone. Phichit types away, frequently muttering to himself, and deleting parts.

“Victor should be wooed with poetry with… erudition, and lofty sentiments…”

Chris gets up and puts another log on the fire. After what seems like an hour, Phichit hands back the phone. Chris glances through the email.

“How long have you liked Victor?” asks Chris. Phichit folds his arms over his chest defensively.

“Years. I saw him perform in London. Afterwards, I was waiting in line for an autograph, when I tripped on a cobblestone and fell. I dropped all my postcards, and Victor came and picked them up for me. It sounds corny, but I felt a connection… love is strange. It may hit suddenly, or creep steadily and overcome us. I’m hoping Cupid will strikes us both.”

“So copy the email, and send it from your account,” suggests Chris. Phichit immediately looks defeated.

“There’s no point. I’m short, skinny, Asian, and I have a pimple on my nose. Even on _Findr_ , I received a message saying I’d look better with my face covered,” wails Phichit.

“Really? Show me,” _says Chris._ Phichit pulls out his phone, and displays some messages.

“Wow! These people are racist and mean. But just to be clear, it says you’d look better with your face covered... in come,” clarifies Chris helpfully.

“What!?” Phichit re-checks the message, embarrassed. “I have _clay-brained guts. I still won’t send him the email from my account.”_

_ Chris laughs. Then he presses send on his phone. _

_“ What the hell, this should be entertaining…” says Chris. “_ _Love goes by haps; some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps._ ”

Phichit turns towards Chris astonished, and accuses,

“I thought you were unable to remember lines? Suddenly you quote something appropriate?”

“Sara repeated that line at least 20 times while jiggling her boobs, it stuck in my brain,” replies Chris, shimmying his shoulders enticingly.

 


	8. Romeo and... Julius

The next morning, Chris brings Sara and Mike to the rehearsal. Meanwhile, Phichit shows up with the town baker, François, and announces,

“François would make a great Touchstone, the witty fool from court, who will court the shepherdess Audrey.”

Victor gestures helplessly, surveying the motley cast. François pleads to with his hands together,

 _“I’m a born fool, I’m perfect for this role:_ __It’s a pity that fools aren’t allowed to speak wisely about the foolish things that wise men do.”_ _

Victor shakes his head at the inaccuracy of the line.

“That’s a modern translation. __The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.”_ _

Phichit flinches at the criticism, but François is impressed. Mike comes forward next, and says with a low evil tone,

 _“_ _… _Bring him, dead or living, within this twelvemonth or turn thou no more to seek the living in our territory. Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine worth seizure, do we seize into our hands till thou canst quit thee by thy brother’s mouth on what we think against thee.”__

Victor says Oliver’s line,

_“ _Oh, that your highness knew my heart is this: I never loved my brother in my life.”__

Mike replies easily,

_“ _More villain thou. Well, push out doors and let my officers of such a nature make an extent upon his house and plans. Do this expediently, and turn him going.”__

Victor throws his arms up, giving up,

“You three are hired for the play: Sara as Jaques, François as Touchstone, and Mike as the old Duke and Duke Frederick. It will be a bloody miracle if this play is ready in time,” grumbles Victor. All three newcomers seem happy to be cast. Sara hands a bag to Victor’s saying,

“For now, the guys can wear some of my skirts…”

Victor nods gratefully.

“Thank you. We probably should wear modern day costumes.”

 

Soon after, Victor begins the rehearsal,

“At the wrestling match, Orlando falls in love with Rosalind at first sight. But he doesn’t really know her. He puts her on a pedestal, writes verse about her, then posts them on trees.”

 _François_ as Touchstone reads Orlando’s poems,

“ _For a taste:_

_If a hart do lack a hind, let him seek out Rosalind._

_If the cat will after kind, so be sure will Rosalind._

_Winter garments must be lined, so must slender Rosalind._  
_They that reap must sheaf and bind; then to cart with Rosalind._  
_Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, such a nut is Rosalind._  
_He that sweetest rose will find, must find love’s prick and Rosalind._

_...This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you infect yourself with them?”_

Phichit replies as Rosalind,

“ _Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree_.”

François gets a call on his cell phone, and he answers it, leaving the stage area.

“But Lise, I’ll make that cake tonight… I know Saturdays are busy, but this is my first chance to be in a play...”

 

Chris comes up to Phichit and asks,

“Is this the kind of highbrow poetry you love? _Find love’s prick_ sounds dirty...”

Phichit rolls his eyes.

“Actually, a prick is a thorn and a dick... Rosalind or Rose, is a rose without a prick.”

“But you, my Rosalind, are a rose _with_ a prick.”

“Yes! Shakespeare was a master of words, but he wasn’t afraid of the gutter. He was bawdy, violent, silly, profound and romantic.”

“I can write poetry like that,” asserts Chris. He thinks for a moment then proclaims,

“Mmm... if you see a hot behind, you can bet it’s Rosalind! There’s one butt I’d like to grind, it belongs to...”

“Do you think of anything besides sex?” interrupts Phichit.

“I’m inspired by those very tight orange pants you’re wearing…” teases Chris. Phichit shakes his head, not believing Chris finds him attractive. Phichit rhymes back,

“Lust is poisoning your mind, use your hand, dandelion.”

Phichit waves goodbye.

“Dandelion?”

“That flower reminds me of your shag of blond hair,” explains Phichit. Chris seems pleased by that comparison.

“I’m not ashamed of being horny, anymore than you should be ashamed of lo-ving Shakespeare,” retorts Chris. Phichit replies, incensed,

“You’re equating my theatrical pursuit, my study of a theater giant with huge emotional range, poetry, and great intellectual merit with… wanting to play hide the salami?”

“Yep.”

“I will debate this point with you to my dying breath!” rages Phichit, wagging his finger at him.

“Exactly. When you’ve died, you’ll stop arguing with me,” says Chris, smiling widely. Phichit looks at him with frustration.

“Either you’re a brilliant fool, or an idiotic genius – either way, you enjoy provoking me,” grumbles Phichit.

“Your wet lips just blow my mind, suck me please, sweet Rosalind!” adds Chris, proudly.

“Shush! Victor is coming our way,” hisses Phichit, covering Chris’s mouth with his hand.

 

Continuing, Victor explains the next scene.

“Rosalind dressed as a man teaches Orlando about the reality of love. _But Orlando doesn’t recognize her,” describes Victor._

_“Of course not, Orlando is big and strong, but has the brains of a walnut,” mutters Phichit. Victor comes forward, and says,_

_“Christophe, when Ganymede has a long speech, your face is blank. So let’s try an exercise. Phichit, say your lines, and Christophe will utter whatever’s on his mind. But don’t respond, Phichit, this is just Orlando’s inner monologue.”_

Phichit gives Chris a warning glance, then begins as Ganymede,

“ _Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip...”_

“A whip?” repeats Chris, giving a _suggestive a look. Phichit glares back continuing,_

“ _...as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the..._ _ **lunacy**_ _is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too.”_

Chris gushes out loud,

“Rosalind, Rosalind, ROSALIND!” Victor nods approvingly. “Whip me too...”

Phichit interrupts,

“ _Yet I profess curing it by counsel.”_

“ _Did you ever cure any so?”_ asks Chris, getting close to Phichit, who pokes him saying,

“ _Yes, one, and in this manner.”_

“Only one? I guess that’s better than none,” remarks Chris.

“ _He was to imagine me his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo me:”_ says Phichit.

“Ganymede, do you often have guys wooing you?” wonders Chris, scratching his chin.

“ _...at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate,”_

“Is Ganymede gay?” questions Chris cluelessly, making those watching laugh.

“ _...changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles,”_

“I like his smile,” Chris says dreamily.

“ _...for every passion something and for no passion truly any thing, as boys and women,”_

“I like womanish boys, no, boyish women?” Chris continues.

“ _...are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep “for him, then spit at him; that I drove my suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured him; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep’s heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in it,”_ finishes Phichit.

“What’s he saying? Who cares? This boy reminds me of my Rosalind,” ends Chris. The other cast members give a quick applause. Victor calls out,

_“Good! In the future, respond like that in your head, Christophe, instead of simply waiting for your next line,” recommends Victor._

 

Afterwards Yuri says to Chris,

“Are you enjoying working with Phichit? I’m amazed he could say his lines with you interrupting him so many times.”

“Yep, he’s a rock star on stage. Good at gutting fish too,” comments Chris. Yuri laughs and responds,

“Tell the others I needed a bathroom break.”

 

Yuri returns from the bathrooms only to be ambushed by Sara saying,

“You’re cute. And I like that you’re comfortable with your feminine side. How about I buy you dinner?”

she pulls and admires Yuri’s skirt, a long flowery number. Phichit sees the interaction, and adds,

“You should go, Yuri, you’re always worried about your next meal... if you like girls?”

The other cast members stop and listen to Yuri’s answer. Yuri shoots a mean glance towards Phichit, then replies,

“I’m not interested in a serious relationship at this time. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Sara crosses her arms and says loudly,

“It’s just dinner for sex, it isn’t serious!”

Mike zooms in between the two of them and hisses,

“Yuri is being a gentleman, act like a lady!”

The twins continue to bicker with each other. Victor turns away, upset by the discord. So Yuri draws them aside and advises,

“Maybe you two could... discuss how you’re feeling...”

But Phichit steps in and asks,

“Mike! Are you in love with Sara?”

“Wh...What!? She’s my sister !!” protests Mike with a horrified look.

“Yes. Your adult woman sister. Even if you were dating, your behavior would be creepy. Like a jealous controlling jerk,” Phichit badgers cheerfully.

“Uh... but she needs protection... she’s so... beautiful!” explains Mike.

“Are you attracted to her? It sure seems like it,” states Phichit, with a raised eyebrow.

“No!! Never!! I like Victor...” Mike puts his hand over his mouth, then sinks down in shock over his own confession. Sara shakes her head and whines,

“Oh puh-lease! It’s just a man crush...”

Mike pleads,

“Don’t tell anyone what I said, I’m not...” Mike shakes his head, then holds his head in hands. “I can’t go to hell...”

 

Phichit leaves the twins, and takes the opportunity to ask Victor,

“Are we doing the musical numbers of the play? I can play the lute...”

Victor hedges,

“Ah! Actually, the dialogue is... challenging enough... Surprisingly, a box of costumes from a local Shakespeare company has been delivered to us. They mysteriously got a deposit I didn’t make! I’ll assign them tomorrow.” Victor shrugs at this turn of events. “The producer of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival will watch our final performance. If he likes it... we’ll be invited to perform there.”

Phichit grimaces at word play, and retorts,

“ _If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, but with good will. To show our simple skill, that is the true beginning of our end._ ”

Victor grins and replies,

“Don’t quote Bottom to me, for fear we’ll be asses.”

Phichit preens at pleasing Victor, walks over and gives Yuri an excited hug.

 

The actors read through the play, then take a break. Victor approaches Chris,

“Your email…” begins Victor.

“Victor! Are you attempting a certain tone? Comedic? More heartfelt?” interrupts Phichit. Victor frowns.

“Work with the text, see where it takes you… Christophe, perhaps we could chat somewhere else…”

Chris nods agreeably, while Phichit gestures to him frantically. In despair, Phichit picks up his bottle of sports drink, and does a prank fall while spraying Victor with the sticky yellow liquid.

“Blast! This shirt was expensive,” exclaims Victor, wiping his clothes. Phichit dabs Victor’s shirt with his sleeve. Victor waives him off. Chris peels off his outer plaid shirt, and hands it to Victor. Victor seems distracted by Chris’s tight T-shirt, then goes to change. Phichit follows him.

“Give me your shirt, I’ll clean it,” offers Phichit apologetically. Victor shakes his head.

“It’s dry clean only. It’s fine, this shirt gives me an excuse to visit Christophe tonight. How do I look in his green plaid?”

“Great,” says Phichit, unenthusiastic. “But… Chris said his tent is... cramped. Maybe he should visit you?”

“Will you give him the message? I’m at the Sawmill Creak Bed-and-Breakfast.”

“Victor… are you positive Chris is the right person for you?”

“I think so… he has a deep and poetic soul, behind that taciturn exterior. I just need the key to unlock those lips,” replies Victor smiling, obviously enchanted. Phichit grimaces, mumbling,

“Poetic soul? All those lips hide is a foul mouthed pervert...”

 

Later that night, Phichit and Chris find a ladder near a shed, and press it against the two-story Victorian building of the _Sawmill Creak B &B_.

“Phichit, why don’t I just knock at the front door?” questions Chris.

“That’s not romantic! Haven’t you seen Romeo and Juliet…” chides Phichit. He finds some pebbles, and throws them at a window. Victor sticks his head out the window and declares,

“ _Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo_ …” as if he had heard Phichit. Chris climbs up the bottom rung of the ladder.

“Um, uh, Victor, do people call you Vic?” says Chris. Victor winces.

“Never.”

“So… you’re... good-looking,” continues Chris.

“Christophe, it’s a beautiful balmy evening. We’re bathed in moonlight, there’s the sweet smell of geraniums in the air. After that poetic and literary email, I want to be wooed with words!”

Phichit whispers to Chris another line from Romeo and Juliet,

“ _O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night, being o’er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven…”_

Chris repeats,

“ _Oh. Speak again, bright angel. This glorious night_ … is going over my head, like a ringed wrestler of lemon…”

Victor frowns, and rubs his ear, saying,

“Come closer, I’m having trouble hearing you.”

Chris goes up another rung on the ladder. Phichit wrings his hands in frustration, and whispers something easier,

“ _Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”_

_Chris repeats,_

_“Shall I compare you to a summer daze, your art is a lovely template.”_

Victor responds,

“Perhaps… Perhaps your memory isn’t the best. Speak in your own words.”

Chris goes halfway up the ladder, and says,

“Uh...Victor, you’re hot. Do you want to baaang…”

Chris feels the ladder being pulled away. He crashes into the bushes.

“Christophe? Are you all right?” cries Victor. Chris rubs his elbow, and Phichit yells,

“Bang! I heard a loud noise. I’m fine, I just need a moment.”

Phichit makes sure Chris is unharmed, then smacks him on the head. Phichit gazes up at Victor, through the bushes. The blond head is framed in moonlight and Phichit exclaims,

“The light of your silvery beauty has rendered me tongue-tied, I can only be myself by hiding in darkness. My voice, just listen to my voice... I have spewed unending details of art, music, and my love of theater, but I yearn to divulge that... you inspire me! I’ve never before encountered someone whose wit sparkles like a gem, whose erudition I can kneel to, whose elegance rivals Diana’s orb. Your aetheric charm enraptures me…”

“I haven’t been courted in ages, tell me more…” calls out Victor, leaning on the window sill.

“I’m enthralled to have you listen to me…for the vibrations of my throat to resonate in your sweet ears… Your favorable words float down to me like intoxicating bubbles. But be careful, one disapproving locution can fracture my head like a rock. For the first time, I’m speaking to you, from the depths of my being...” Phichit’s voice cracks with emotion.

“Even your voice sounds different... You’re usually a man of few words. I was surprised by your writing… It was moving, eloquent,” responds Victor.

“The pen unlocks my secret desires, while your eyes turn my lips to stone, like a Medusa of love,” continues Phichit.

“I admire your words, I would date someone like you, even if you weren’t handsome...” admits Victor dreamily.

“A kiss...” calls out Chris, pushing Phichit towards the ladder. Phichit shakes his head, dismayed. Victor offers,

“A kiss? I will gladly grant a kiss, if you climb back up…”

Phichit looks dour and pushes Chris towards the ladder. Chris shrugs and climbs back up.

“ _Cowards die many times before their deaths..._ ” Phichit whispers to himself, despondently. Victor comes forward, through the window, closing his eyes. Chris gives him a quick peck, then climbs back down. Victor opens his eyes, puzzled. Chris picks up the ladder, and waves to Victor goofily.

 

Victor is elated by the encounter, but a little confused. Christophe sometimes seems dull and boring, and other times, to have a dazzling intellect. The kiss was short, but sweet. More matter of fact, than full of passion. He shouldn’t get romantically involved, should he? Yet, London seems like another world, far away from here.

 

Phichit walks back on the dirt road, kicking a pebble.

“Argh, _y_ _ _our brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after voyage__ _,”_ grumbles Phichit, lightly slapping Chris’s arm.

“How so?” questions Chris, amused.

“You were supposed to be romantic! Do you pick up girls by saying ‘You’re hot, wanna bang?’”

“Yeah. Although sometimes, I just say… ‘Wanna bang?’ ” clarifies Chris.

 _“Aaargh!_ __More of your conversation would infect my brain_ _ _!_ Didn’t you read my email? I tried to be witty, well read, intellectual with a sense of humor… The kind of guy that Victor would fall in love with…”

“But Phichit, I don’t talk that way. Instead of catfishing him, be honest and tell him you’re interested.”

 

Phichit and Chris stroll back towards the campground, under the light of the full moon. Victor is right. The night is perfect, a lovely temperature, with crickets chirping in the background. Phichit gazes up at the moon, and stumbles on a rock. Chris reaches out, and takes Phichit’s hand. Phichit tries to pull away, but Chris holds on firmly.

“Even in this day of marvelous technology, I’m entranced by the moon. I’d like to fly there, in a fantastical spaceship,” Phichit chatters nervously.

“Would you like to be a real astronaut?” asks Chris.

“No. I’m hoping for an alien civilization with great art and technology will whisk me away to strange new worlds.”

They walk quietly until they reach their tents. Chris smiles, and lets go of his hand. Weirded out by the moment, Phichit nods and turns towards his tent. Then he stops, and walks back.

“I shouldn’t ask, but… what was the kiss like?” whispers Phichit. Chris shrugs, glances upwards for a moment, then adds,

“Like this,” Chris reaches over, briefly presses his lips against Phichit’s.

“Oh. Short and sweet… that’s good. Better to leave him wanting more,” says Phichit, touching his lips. Then he quickly returns to his tent.

 

“Where were you?” asks Yuri drowsily, already tucked into his sleeping bag.

“Playing Cupid. I’m an addled brain fool,” replies Phichit, collapsing next to him.

“And how is that going?”

“Isn’t Cupid the child of Venus and Mars? Love and war combined. A big mess.”

Yuri yawns, then says,

 _“_ _Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind and therefore is winged Cupid painted_ _ **blind**_ _. Nor hath love’s mind of any judgement taste; wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste. And therefore is love said to be a child because in choice he is so oft beguiled._ ”

“How right to be quoting _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ to me as we frolic in the woods so close to the solstice. I’m rubbing off on you,” says Phichit, rubbing Yuri’s head. Yuri fends him off.

“You’re not the only one who likes Shakespeare. You seem nervous around Victor. Be yourself,” recommends Yuri.

 

 


	9. Dark Side of the Moon

Victor arrives early at the rehearsal area, and sees Yuri is already there. Yuri begins,

“So… I know someone who really likes you. But… you haven’t given him a chance. The thing is… I understand people have their preferences for how others look… But in general, not resembling the ideal is a great disadvantage. You wouldn’t believe the awful things people say.”

Victor looks at Yuri thoughtfully. Is Yuri talking about himself? Victor takes a second look. He’s cute, and seems nice. Is Yuri gay? Moreover, what about Christophe…?

“I didn’t realize that. Come and have breakfast with me, I’d like to know more,” decides Victor.

 

They sit at the bakery, enjoying croissants François gives them on the house.

“How long have you known Phichit?” begins Victor.

“My whole life. We grew up a few blocks from each other, and our parents are friends. He’s a few years younger than me, but he skipped two grades. He’s a genius. Whether it’s sports, or music, or math… he’s good at everything,” extols Yuri.

“What about you?”

“I became his shadow. I was the moon following the sun. I studied martial arts because of him, I joined the theater club, I went camping in the woods…”

“But what do _you_ want? Is there anything you want to do, besides follow Phichit?”

Yuri bites his lip, then finally admits,

“I want to work as an actor. But it seems pointless, others do it much better. Phichit is magnetic onstage, I’m forgettable.”

“Finally, something I can help with! After rehearsals, meet me for private acting lessons.”

“You… You’d do that for me?” sputters Yuri. Victor grins and replies,

“It might be fun.”

Victor and Yuri chat throughout breakfast. At the end, Victor adds,

“Yuri... first, I take note of physical attractiveness. But I don’t stop there. I want to delve into the whole person before risking my heart…” insists Victor, lecturing himself as well as Yuri.

“I’m glad. You’re surprisingly easy to talk to as well,” remarks Yuri, giving a shy smile.

 

That morning, Victor hands out costumes: doublets and breeches for those playing males; bodices and skirts for those playing females. Yuri and Phichit also get hooped petticoats called farthingales.

“Yuri, Celia is a noblewoman. Take smaller steps, and gesture gracefully. Imagine your shoulders are tied down,” says Victor, showing by example.

“Should I speak in a higher tone?” asks Yuri.

“Only if you can do it naturally. Otherwise it sounds comedic,” counsels Victor. Then he observes the opening scene between Celia and Rosalind, and comments,

“You both look good. Yuri especially makes the farthingale look natural; Phichit, you’re swinging your hips too much. It makes the skirt swish back and forth like a bell.”

 

Mike shows up for his scenes, but avoids interacting with the others, especially Victor. Sara is unusually quiet as well. Victor checks his watch, François never shows for the rehearsal. Victor asks Phichit pointedly,

“Is François ever going to rehearse?”

Phichit shrugs, irritated to be held responsible. They move on to the next scene. Victor narrates,

_“In this part, Rosalind doubts whether Orlando loves her. Meanwhile, Celia is upset Rosalind might leave her for Orlando. So Celia uses language to score points against Orlando, while Rosalind is torn between trusting her love or believing Celia.”_

Phichit laments,

“ _Never talk to me; I will weep._ ”

Yuri says sweetly,

“ _Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man..._ ”

“Right, Rosalind is now dressed as a man,” reminds Victor. “Some scholars think Rosalind is a liberating figure for women, but moments like these show her reinforcing gender norms even as she transgresses them...”

“ _But have I not cause to weep?_ ” continues Phichit, ignoring Victor.

“ _As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep,_ ” Yuri says.

“ _His very hair is of the dissembling colour,_ ” Phichit complains, glaring at Victor’s hair. Sensing the rebuke, Victor stops adding commentary.

 

Next, Chris and Phichit have several long bouts of dialogue, and Chris is frustrated at his memory failing after this long part where Ganymede insults Orlando,

“ _A lean cheek, which you have_ **not** , a blue eye and sunken, which you have **not** , an unquestionable spirit, which you have **not** , a beard neglected, which you have **not** ; but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger brother’s revenue: then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation; but you are **no** such man; you are rather point-device in your accoutrements as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other.”

“... … I have no idea what comes next! I have too many lines,” complains Chris. Victor steps in, and says,

“Watch how I move. The physical actions will help you remember the words.”

Victor gets down on his knees, and says as Orlando,

“ _Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love,_ ” with a grin. Phichit seems distracted a moment and does a feminine swoon. Then he tugs on his boy clothes, walks over and bonks Victor lightly on the head.

“ _Me believe it! You may as soon make her that you love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she does: that is one of the points in which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired?_ ”

Victor gets up and takes Phichit’s hand, declaring with the other hand on his heart,

“ _I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind,_ ” Victor looks down at Phichit’s hand frowning, _“I am that he, that unfortunate he._ ”

Phichit takes back his hand, hiding it behind his back.

“ _But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?”_ squeaks Phichit, rocking back and forth nervously. Victor grabs a piece of paper and scribbles on it, then says,

“ _Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.”_

Phichit smiles adoringly towards Victor. Chris watches the exchange, especially noting how Phichit and Victor play seamlessly off each other, making the scene look easy and polished. Chris says nothing and leaves the stage area.

 

Victor explains the next scene, while Bret, cast as a shepherdess, slumps in discomfort.

“Orlando has missed his next rendezvous with Ganymede, so Rosalind is upset. Ganymede comes upon a young shepherdess named Phoebe, being pursued by the shepherd Silvius.”

Bret holds up his dress and bodice with a grimace, not wanting to put it on. He complains,

“Victor, why isn’t Aaron playing Phoebe, he’s shorter...”

“And hairier... He has the beginning of a beard, and it’s only one o’clock...” explains Victor.

“Do you have a problem with cross-dressing?” Phichit asks Bret, with a dangerous edge to his voice.

“No no, dresses are… super. I love... girly crap...” mutters Bret, slipping on the skirt. Then he puts the bodice on loosely, leaving the ties hanging. Aaron, already dressed as a shepherd, jokes,

“Oooh, hot mama, you’re so pretty, for you I’ll give up doing sheep...”

Phichit turns on Aaron,

“Care for me to _ram_ this fist into _ewe_?”

Victor interrupts quickly,

“Phoebe falls in love with Ganymede.”

Bret looks at Victor with alarm, saying,

“Wait a moment! Not only am I playing a girl, but I’m falling in love with a girl?”

Victor shrugs.

“It’s not clear if you like feminine men, or whether you recognize Ganymede is actually a girl. Maybe you’re bisexual…” offers Victor.

“No way. I’m playing some kind of lesbian, with another guy…” complains Bret. Then he clears his throat, as Aaron tells Bret,

“ _Sweet Phoebe... do not scorn me. Do not Phoebe... Aye that you love me not... but say not so in bitterness...”_ Aaron forgets the rest. He picks up a script and reads the rest of the lines. Bret answers.

“ _I would not be your executioner. I fly thee for I would not injure thee. Thou till’st? Tellst? Tellest me there is murder in mine eye..._ ” Bret forgets the rest. “What’s with all the ‘thee, thy, thou thunk’ stuff?”

Victor explains,

“ ‘You’ is formal, an honoring form. Silvius uses it with Phoebe to woo her. ‘Thee’ is informal, intimate, used towards lower or equal people. ‘Thou tellest’ would be ‘you tell’ nowadays.”

“Can’t we just talk normal?”

“Fine, yes. If it makes you more comfortable, understanding your lines is important... and it will help the audience.”

Phichit shakes his head, obviously upset at this new development. Bret takes the script from Aaron, and reads his lines. Aaron continues to read over Bret’s shoulder,

“ _O dear Phoebe if ever as that ever may be near you meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy then shall you know the wounds invisible that love’s keen arrows make..._ ”

Bret pushes Aaron away, and says,

“ _But_ _till that time come not thou near me_ _,_ ” reads Bret. Aaron tries to hug him, and Bret repeats, “Don’t come near me!”

Phichit has a long discourse that ends with,

“ _...So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well._ ”

Then Bret says to Phichit,

“ _Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together: I had rather hear you chide than this man woo._ Chide? _”_

Victor explains,

“Scold, berate, criticize... Phoebe would prefer to hear Ganymede scold her than Silvius romance her,” Phichit points towards Aaron says,

“ _He’s fallen in love with your **foulness,”**_ points towards Bret, _“and she’ll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I’ll sauce her with bitter words.”_ Phichit glares at Bret _, “Why look you so upon me?”_

Bret is unnerved at Phichit’s glare, but stumbles through the rest of the scene, reading. Victor shakes his head and sighs.

 

After rehearsal, everyone leaves, but Victor detains Yuri for a moment.

“If you stay longer, I’ll give you a private lesson,” offers Victor. Yuri looks around, then whispers,

“Head south of here for a quarter of a mile, there’s a big rock with a ridge of quartz on it. There we can meet without being observed.”

Yuri takes the opposite direction, then doubles back to find Victor, who is rehearsing his lines for Oliver.

“What do you need help with?” begins Victor.

“It’s hard to speak the lines naturally,” admits Yuri.

“Lots of actors are intimidated by Shakespeare. The language has archaic terms, and many lines in verse. In As You like It most of the scenes in the court are in verse, while in the woods, the characters are freer and speak in prose. Either way, there’s a rhythm to the language. Most of the verse will follow five short and long syllables: de Dum, de Dum, de Dum, de Dum, de Dum… the infamous iambic pentameter:

__Two households, both alike in dignity..._ _

It’s just a fancy way of describing the natural emphasis of the English language. Listen:

‘I go to town today. I go… to town... today. de Dum, de Dum, de Dum.’

The prose has a rhythm too. If you listen to people’s speech for a while, you’ll hear everyone has their own rhythm,” explains Victor.

“How do I develop my own rhythm?”

“Focus on the meaning of the words. Speak your lines, if there’s a question, take a pause. Think about the answer.”

Yuri nods.

 

Victor searches through his script, and decides,

“Let’s do the scene where Oliver encounters Ganymede and Aliena.”

“Obviously you’ll be Oliver, and I’ll be Aliena, but who plays Ganymede?” asks Yuri.

“I’ll say Ganymede’s, lines.”

Yuri studies his lines, then nods to Victor. Victor explains,

“This scene is tricky. Oliver searches for Ganymede in the woods to deliver a message from Orlando. Oliver relates how he was sleeping under a tree, and Orlando saved him from a snake and a lion. Orlando was injured, Oliver has a change of heart about his brother. Ganymede worries about her man being injured, but she must maintain a manly demeanor in front of Orlando’s brother. And Oliver and Aliena fall in love. As we’ve seen with Chris and Phichit, it’s not easy to convey sudden deep adoration to the audience.”

“Then how do we show our sudden attraction? Do I bat my eyes at you?” questions Yuri, biting his lip.

“When Oliver describes what happened to him, I’ll pull you over to this tree. You will reenact Oliver’s role in his story and you pretend to sleep under the tree, while I do Orlando’s actions. Then… if you’re comfortable, I’ll seduce you.”

Yuri frowns, shuffling awkwardly.

“Um, I’m not sure… Oliver will seduce Celia, I mean, Aliena, in what way?” squeaks Yuri.

“With my eyes…” replies Victor with a mischievous wink.

 

Victor walks forward with a white paper napkin.

“Our prop, a handkerchief, or handkercher, used to bandage Orlando’s arm, mauled by the lion.”

“ _Orlando doth commend him to you both, and to that youth he calls his... Rosalind... he sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?”_ questions Victor dubiously. Then Victor with a higher voice says Ganymede’s line,

“ _I am: what must we understand by this?”_

Then Victor lowers his voice as Oliver,

“ _Some of my shame; if you will know of me what man I am, and how, and why, and... where this handkercher was stained.”_

Yuri looks at the napkin, and says to Victor,

“ _I pray you, tell it.”_

Victor paces back and forth,

“ _When last the young Orlando parted from you, he left a promise to return again within an hour, and pacing through the forest, chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, lo, what befell! He threw his eye aside, and mark what object did present itself:_

_Under an oak, whose boughs were mossed with age and high top bald with dry antiquity,”_

Victor pats his hair sadly, and pulls Yuri over to lie underneath a tree.

“ _a wretched ragged man, overgrown with hair, lay sleeping on his back: about his neck a green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, who with her head nimble in threats approached the opening of his mouth;”_

Victor coils his arm around Yuri’s neck, his hand imitating a snake’s movement. For a moment, their lips are almost touching. Yuri’s eyes become wide and he blushes. But just as Yuri feels like Victor is going to kiss him, Victor bounces back and exclaims,

“– _but suddenly, seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself, and with indented glides did slip away into a bush: under which bush’s shade a lioness, with udders all drawn dry, lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,”_

Victor draws his hands like a prowling animal, creeping up again to Yuri’s left,  
_“When that the sleeping man should stir; (for ‘tis the royal disposition of that beast to prey on nothing that doth seem as dead):  
This seen, Orlando did approach the man and found it was his brother, his elder brother.”_

Yuri turns towards Victor, sensing his blue gaze completely engulf him. Yuri squeaks,

“ _O… I have heard him speak of that same brother; and he did render him the most unnatural that lived amongst men.”_

Victor gentlemanly puts out his hand to help Yuri stand back up, still not breaking eye contact. They end up standing very close. Victor whispers,

_“ _And well he might so do, for well I know he was unnatural.”__

 

Victor is tempted to try a kiss. Instead he pauses, worried that Yuri may be uncomfortable with a man’s attention. But although Yuri’s face is flushed with embarrassment, he is grinning from ear to ear.

“That was so much better than… us just talking to each other. I love working with you!” exclaims Yuri. Victor smiles back, enjoying his enthusiasm.

“It’s called acting, not reciting. To act is to move! If a lover only said I love you, but never made love… How boring that would be!”

“Victor… what are you looking for in a guy? I’m asking for... someone else,” adds Yuri. Victor smiles, then reflects.

“I enjoy charismatic, clever men… always ready with a witty comeback. I love words, I enjoy being wooed with poetry…”

“Oh. I see,” replies Yuri, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“You see…” prompts Victor.

“What happens after the first magical encounter? Does such a courtship make a happy relationship?”

“I put my faith in the power of love… Haven’t you been in love?”

“ _Is love a fancy or a feeling?_ It’s a madness or a delusion. Coleridge?” Yuri wonders out loud. Victor continues to quote the poem,

“ _No. It is immortal as immaculate Truth, ‘tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth, drops from the stem of life – for it will grow, in barren regions, where no waters flow, nor rays of promise cheats the pensive gloom._ Love is everything. It’s as important as gravity to human lives, and I will, til my dying breath, yearn for my twin flame to set fire to my soul…” enthuses Victor, doing a twirl.

“You’re an idealist, a dreamer. In love with love… I bet you’re fond of dessert, but don’t like to eat your vegetables,” accuses Yuri. Victor disagrees,

“I like my greens _al dente –_ properly cooked, I enjoy them very much. How can I not be infatuated with love? It’s the most sublime emotion…”

Victor gets up, and pulls out of his satchel a chocolate eclair. Victor tears off a piece, and places it in Yuri’s mouth.

“How does that taste?”

Yuri’s face looks tortured, obviously enjoying the desert, while looking guilty.

“Mmm, sweet, rich… ooh, that tastes good… I’m not allowed sweets, it goes straight to my waist,” confesses Yuri.

_“Love is even better than that, and it won’t go to your waist,” quips Victor playfully, licking his own fingers sensuously. Yuri quickly looks away, turning pink. Victor grins, wondering how to make him blush again._

 

That evening, Phichit strides over to see Chris.

“Let me write another email to Victor!” entreats Phichit.

“Why? So you can dig your hole deeper?” questions Chris, irritated.

“I’m not being sensible, I know that! It’s just… all these thoughts, bottled up for years, are crowding my brain, and I need to express them. No one’s ever listened to me, except Yuri! So yes, hand me your shovel…” replies Phichit, motioning for Chris’s phone. Chris shakes his head. Phichit runs back to his car and returns with a plastic bin.

“You’re bribing me with smores?” questions Chris disbelievingly.

“Please, I’m desperate… dark chocolate...” pleads Phichit, sticking the dark treat under his nose. Chris throws him the phone.

“For the record, I’m not usually so easily manipulated. It’s difficult to say no to you,” mutters Chris. But Phichit ignores him, already typing away. While Phichit composes, Chris gathers some rope, and with a solid branch, ties some it together.

“Tell me what you’re writing,” insists Chris.

“I’ve been lonely… I never fit in anywhere. I was born and raised in Seattle, but people told me I’m a foreigner, go back home. I visited Thailand but… even though I looked like everyone else, I didn’t fit in...” recounts Phichit.

“You might as well sign Phichit after those details,” comments Chris.

“I said it in more general terms. I wrote about wanting to love, wanting to be loved. Every song on the radio is about love, most movies have a love interest. I don’t want to walk alone…What about you?”

“I’m an ordinary guy, not much story. I’ve been drifting around doing random acting gigs. Lately I’ve been couch surfing in Portland.” Chris tugs on the rope. “It’s ready, try it out,” announces Chris.

“You built a swing?” says Phichit, surprised. He tugs on the lines to check it’s secure. “It does look fun…”

“I made it so you could fly to the moon,” explains Chris, getting ready to push. Phichit grins. He takes a running leap to start, then gleefully pumps his legs till he’s flying in a huge arc.

“I can almost touch it!”

Afterwards, they sit by the fire, saying nothing while observing the dancing flames.

“You’re being quiet, everything okay?” asks Chris. Phichit nods.

“I’m not a chatterbox all the time. I like to listen to the sound of the wind in the pines, squirrels currying nuts, the bats fluttering around eating insects… There’s something soothing and deeply satisfying about the smell of pine sap, the burning wood... __It is the marriage of the soul with nature that makes the intellect fruitful, and gives birth to imagination...__ Henry David Thoreau.”

“I like that. You say words that... reflect feelings I wouldn’t know how to describe.”

“You should read Thoreau’s journal, you’d like it.”

“Nah. I prefer to get the highlights from you, less work,” declares Chris, poking at the fire.

 

 


	10. Denial is in Egypt

The next day in his tent, Aaron goes to put on his costume, and finds a stuffed animal, a small sheep, inside his pants. Someone’s idea of a joke. He tosses it into the bushes outside his tent. At rehearsal, Bret asks Aaron,

“We herd you got lucky last night... How was _she...ep_?”

“Hay, at least I got laid... You’re probably still a virgin!” retorts Aaron. Bret pulls out the stuffed sheep from a bag, removing a few leaves.

“She was virgin wool til yesterday...” Bret says wistfully. Aaron chases Bret around the stage, trying to grab the stuffed animal.

 

Victor takes a break, ignoring the shenanigans, and reads several emails from Christophe. If only Christophe would speak in person, as he does in his emails… He’s not sure what to think of his admirer. Sometimes he seems perfect, yet in person, they have nothing to say to each other. Victor shakes himself, and prepares for a scene with Christophe.

 

Victor instructs Christophe about the scene,

“Both brothers are now reunited and reconciled. But Orlando doesn't believe that Oliver has fallen in love with Aliena at first meeting. Which is strange, because that’s how Oliver fell in love with Rosalind.”

Christophe interrogates him as Orlando,

“ _Is it possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her? That seeing you should love her? And loving woo? And wooing, she should grant? And will you persevere to enjoy her?”_

Victor responds as Oliver,

_“_ _ _Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me... I love Aliena... say with her that she loves me__ _...” Aliena, played by Yuri. He had barely noticed Yuri at the beginning. But there’s something about the dark-haired guy which Victor finds very… interesting. Why is he thinking about Yuri? Those emailed love letters are so compelling! Just what he’d always dreamed of… He should focus on Christophe in front him, not Yuri._

 

Next, Christophe does a scene with Phichit. He finally has the words right, but is droning,

_“They shall be married tomorrow and I will bid the Duke to the nuptial... but O how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes... by so much the more shall I tomorrow be at the height of heart-heaviness by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for.”_

Victor shakes his head, wishing Christophe had more of Phichit’s talent.

“Christophe, you don’t seem to care! You should act frustrated. Oliver is marrying Aliena, but instead of being with your beloved Rosalind, you’re with Ganymede. What do you love, more than anything?”

Christophe ponders the question for a moment, then shrugs.

“Nature?”

“Are you passionate about nature? Would you do anything to protect that tree?” demands Victor.

“No, probably not,” admits Christophe . Phichit pipes up,

“What about your penis? Someone has cut off your penis, named Rosalind. You want Rosalind back… don’t you?”

Christophe squirms uncomfortably.

“Of course,” he replies. Phichit adds,

“Marrying Rosalind, means you get your dick back. Now say the line again.”

Victor frowns at having his position as director usurped. But Christophe is saying his line again, and it is much better,

_“_ _ _They shall be married tomorrow, and I will bid the Duke to the nuptial. But, O! how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness... through another man’s... EYES! By so much the more shall I tomorrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for...”__

Victor peers at Christophe uneasily, disturbed that such crass coaching worked. Sometimes, the tall man seems more like a dock worker than a winsome poet.

 

After rehearsals, Victor skips down to the granite rock to meet Yuri.

“Last time, we practiced the scene where Oliver meets Celia. Let’s finish the scene. A napkin.”

Victor shows a white cloth to Yuri.

“A napkin?”

“Remember? A cloth, napkin, or handkerchief... our prop.”

Yuri sits under the tree, and says

“ _Oh, I have heard him speak of that same brother; and he did render him the most unnatural that lived amongst men.”_

Victor puts out his hand to help Yuri stand and they gaze at each other. Victor continues,

_“ _And well he might so do, for well I know he was unnatural.”__

Then Victor says in a higher tone as Ganymede,

_“ _But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, food to the sucked and hungry lioness?”__

Victor answers himself as Oliver,

_“ _Twice did he turn his back and purposed so; but kindness, nobler ever than revenge, and nature, stronger than his just occasion, made him give battle to the lioness, who quickly fell before him: in which hurtling from miserable slumber I awaked.”__

Victor mimes Orlando fighting the lion, as he makes a wrestling motion to Yuri’s hand, and Yuri spins into his arms. That wasn’t Victor’s intention, but he isn’t complaining. Yuri looks up at Victor, and whispers,

“ _Are you his brother? Was it you that did so oft contrive to kill him?_ ”

“‘ _Twas I; but ‘tis not I, I do not shame to tell you what I was, since my conversion so sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.”_

Victor forgets what the next line is, wondering if he should kiss Yuri. Then Yuri steps away from his arms. Victor is now confused. Are they flirting as Oliver and Aliena, or as themselves? Yuri reminds him Ganymede’s line,

“ _But, for the bloody napkin?”_

Victor frowns, then continues as Oliver,

“ _By and by. ...uh, my brother there stripped himself, and here upon his arm the lioness had torn some flesh away, which all this while had bled; and now he fainted and cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. Brief, I recovered him, bound up his wound;”_

Victor pretends to put a bandage on Yuri’s arm. At this point, it’s unnecessary for the scene to be continuously miming every motion on Yuri, but Victor foolishly wants to touch Yuri again. Victor finishes distracted,

“... _his broken promise, and to give this napkin dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth that he in sport doth call his Rosalind?_ ”

He pulls the white cloth and waves it to an imaginary Ganymede.

“Ganymede, faints onto the ground seeing the bloody napkin.”

Yuri tends to the imaginary Ganymede on the ground.

“ _Why, how now, Ganymede... sweet Ganymede..._ ”

Victor says Oliver’s line,

“ _Many will swoon when they do look on blood.”_

Yuri says,

“ _There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede!”_

Victor replies,

“ _Look, he recovers.”_ Then adds Ganymede’s line, “ _I would I were at home._ ”

Yuri says to Victor,

“ _We’ll lead you thither. I pray you, will you take him by the arm?_ ”

Victor says to the invisible Ganymede,

“ _Be of good cheer, youth: you a man. You lack a man’s heart._ ”

Victor and Yuri pretend to carry Ganymede offstage.

 

“I don’t think I was projecting...” worries Yuri.

“Working on your projection and refining your articulation is a good idea. But you’ll command a scene when you become vulnerable. Showing your flaws, like pride, avarice, or vanity…” expounds Victor. Yuri looks at Victor with uncertainty.

“My flaws, or the character’s flaws?” asks Yuri quietly.

“It’s almost a mixture of both… Why?” quizzes Victor.

“All my life, I’ve suffered from anxiety. I’ve worked hard to hide it, pretend it’s not there. Am I supposed to… become afraid on stage?”

Victor takes a breath, surprised by the admission. He reaches over and pats Yuri’s arm.

“I’m not advocating you have a panic attack on stage, even if the role calls for it. But some of that energy needs to be released… that raw emotion is captivating…”

Honestly, Victor finds Yuri captivating right now. Yuri continues,

“That’s ironic. I started acting because I had panic attacks. Phichit devised the worst skit in the world. We didn’t rehearse. We didn’t know our lines. We performed at a school talent show, and got booed off the stage. It was one of the worst nights of my life.”

“That sounds terrible! I’m sorry,” insists Victor, taken aback.

“It was terrible, but that was the point. Phichit showed me I could survive the worst. I still get anxious, but what others think of me… doesn’t rule me.”

“Ah! A sort of trial by fire.”

“What are you afraid of?” questions Yuri. Victor would like to dodge the question, but those dark eyes are so appealing...

“Of not being loved. Being gay meant lots of rejection. I filled that hole with the applause of audiences, I often play a part,” replies Victor honestly.

“Sort of like Phichit… You don’t have to perform for me,” replies Yuri. Victor stands there, frozen. He feels a knot in his throat at those words.

“I should return to camp, I’m famished,” says Yuri, then waves a quick goodbye. Victor stares confused in the direction Yuri left.

“Oh dear, I should not be feeling like this…” murmurs Victor to himself.

 

Yuri returns to the campground, and sees Phichit eating with Chris again. Yuri feels guilty about mooching off so much food, but his rumbling stomach has other ideas. There does seem to be a mountain of food. Chris hands him a bowl of stew, saying,

“You’ve arrived just in time for Sherlock Shakespeare. Phichit just taught me how to play.”

Yuri groans, complaining,

“I should’ve gone straight to my tent and starved. _Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow._ ”

Yuri gets up to leave, but Phichit waves some marshmallows at him. Yuri sits back down and asks,

“Fine. Chris, are you single?”

Chris types into his phone, then replies,

 _“ _When sorrows come, they come not__ __**single** _ _ __spies, but in battalions_ _ _…_ _Hamlet_ _._ One point.”

Phichit shakes his head, complaining,

“I let you use the web, but your answer still has to make sense…”

Chris smiles good-naturedly.

“Yes, I’m single. Phichit, do you like my smile?” asks Chris.

 _“_ _One may smile, and smile, and be a villain!_ Hamlet, one point,” answers Phichit. “Yuri, where have you been disappearing to lately?”

“ _These are the forgeries of jealousy. And never, since the middle summer’s spring, met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead_... A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” replies Yuri without thinking.

“I’m jealous of you meeting fairies in the woods? You’re not making much more sense than Chris,” exclaims Phichit. Yuri bites his lip, wishing he’d said something else. Phichit didn’t make the connection between meeting fairies and the poster of Victor as Oberon. Then Yuri asks Chris tentatively,

“Chris… did you date Sara?“

“Sara?” Chris searches for a while on his phone, and finally replies, “ _The tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow_. Antony and Cleopatra. We dated for about a year. She’s a handful. I’m warning you, since she likes you.”

“Really? Who was crying, you or her?” asks Yuri.

“Her brother. He’d knock at my door in the middle of the night, sobbing,” answers Chris.

“I hate people like you,” mutters Phichit. “If you’re a jerk, you’re seen as strong. If you’re afraid of commitment, you’re polyamorous, or against the patriarchal institution of monogamy. Beautiful people get away with everything…”

 _“_ __Love me or hate me, both are in my favour. If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart... If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind_ _ _,” taunts Chris. Phichit scowls._

“Minus one point. That quote wasn’t by Shakespeare, it’s a misattributed to him, check your sources,” corrects Phichit. Then he stands up, “Excuse me, I have a date.”

 

Phichit hikes quickly through the woods, heading for the small town. He doesn’t notice a dark shadow tailing him. He arrives at the bakery and goes inside, even though it’s already closed. Chris arrives moments later, panting from following Phichit’s breakneck speed. Chris peers through a window, he hears Phichit scolding François for missing a second day of rehearsals. François apologizes, explaining he can’t be away from his business. Then Phichit rehearses with François, deftly playing all the other roles that François’s character interacts with: Rosalind, Celia, Audrey, Jaques,… each with a different voice and mannerisms. He captures Sara’s performance perfectly, and Chris laughs. A figure comes out of the shadows next to him.

“I suppose it’s funny. He is talented,” reluctantly admits Sara. Chris shakes his head, and adds,

“It’s more than talent. He’s… passionate, over the top, and I dunno… interesting?”

“And that’s why you tailed him?”

“He’s been ambushed before...” Chris explains.

“Am I boring now?” Sara asks, unzipping her hoodie and striking a sexy pose.

“We had fun. You know, Sara... there’s lots of fish in sea,” responds Chris, turning away to leave.

“I’m fishing for compliments, but you won’t bite,” adds Sara dourly.

 


	11. Kiss Me Kate

The next day, they run through the whole play, most actors still holding their scripts. The actors finish the final scene in a line with all the couples standing next to each other: Rosalind and Orlando, Celia and Oliver,Phoebe and Silvius. The gawky teen playing Audrey stands alone, since Touchstone has missed another rehearsal. Phichit asks,

“Are you casting someone as the god of marriage, Hymen?”

“Excuse me!?” sputters Sara, “There’s a god of marriage, called… Hymen, like the vaginal membrane?”

Victor nods and says,

“Yes, the god of marriage shows up in several of Shakespeare’s play. It was the Renaissance, virginity in women was highly praised.”

“Sounds too hetero for my tastes,” adds Phichit, wrinkling his nose. Victor protests,

“Not at all! The Greek god Hymenaios cross-dressed to be with his lady, and Apollo had a crush on him... But I don’t mind cutting the role, we don’t have enough actors as it is, Touchstone could say the line.”

Sara makes a horrified grimace at the word _cutting_.

“Good. It bothers me that a female body part is called a ‘ _Hi! Men’_ anyways,” points out Sara.

“How do we end the play? Several couples holding hands and getting married is rather dull, though a typical ending for a comedy,” admits Victor. Phichit remarks,

“Orlando has a great reversal of fortune. In the beginning, he has nothing. In the end, his brother Oliver gives him the family land, and by marrying Rosalind, he’ll be getting the dukedom.”

Chris shakes his head, responding,

“Orlando isn’t getting what he most wants: to kiss Rosalind. Why don’t the couples kiss?”

Phichit is taken aback, while Yuri simply shrugs. Sara frowns at Chris. Bret yelps,

“No way!” jumping away from Aaron, who makes smoochy lips at Bret. Victor hesitates, then admits,

“I suppose it would make a statement, though it might make some audience members squirm. But it’s not required. If both actors in a couple agree, they will. Otherwise, just hold hands and gaze at each other.”

Victor walks over to Yuri close enough that others won’t hear,

“Are you comfortable ending the play in a kiss?”

“Sure,” replies Yuri, keeping his eyes on the script. Victor, frustrated by the lack of response, continues,

“I know, but some men might be uncomfortable… being a bit intimate with me…” angling for more information.

“Don’t worry. I’m a willing actor,” replies Yuri unhelpfully, still not looking at Victor.

 

Meanwhile, Chris walks over to Phichit.

“Are you game?” asks Chris. Phichit is silent, seemingly undecided. “It might make you more noticeable to Victor…” adds Chris. Phichit rolls his eyes.

“ _ _Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows__ _._ Victor will be kissing Yuri, not looking at me.”

“You think Yuri will do it?” questions Chris dubiously.

“Yuri never backs down from an acting challenge. Let’s try it. I can’t have him upstage me. But keep your tongue to yourself,” instructs Phichit.

“Meaning don’t talk, or no French kissing?” clarifies Chris.

“Both,” replies Phichit with a warning glance.

 

They rehearse the entire play, and at the end, Victor leans towards Yuri. Yuri, or Celia, is gazing at him adoringly. He or she… melts into his arms, as if completely enamored and aroused. Victor is completely caught off guard, and gazes into Yuri’s dark eyes, seemingly filled with desire. He presses his lips on Yuri’s. Oh... Yuri’s mouth feels just right... Victor feels his heart beating erratically, as they separate, face towards the imaginary audience and take a bow. Victor is more confused than ever. Does Yuri like him... or was he acting?

 

Meanwhile, Phichit sways back and forth nervously. He hams up the moment, theatrically swooning. But Chris ignores the theatrics, bends down and kisses Phichit. Phichit freezes, feeling Chris’s lips. Even though it’s just a soft brush, he feels a rush of heat, then stumbles in embarrassment. He should be able to handle such a moment as an actor... He quickly disengages himself and curtsies towards the audience. Aaron approaches Bret with pursed lips, only to have Bret shove the stuffed sheep into his face. Aaron wipes his lips and red lipstick smears onto his hand.

“Eww, what’s this red stuff?” demands Aaron.

“Wool Sheep-speare isn’t afraid of kissing you,” explains Bret, “You two are already have a relation-sheep ...”

Aaron runs after Bret, trying to smear the lipstick on Bret. Phichit glances at Chris, who asks,

“Are you okay? You haven’t said a word...”

“ _Baa_ , I’m _shear_ I’ll be fine soon, I’m just avoiding _ewe_ ...” responds Phichit, awkwardly staring at the ground.

 

Chris watches Phichit a moment longer, then he goes over to Victor. Still overheated from the kiss with Yuri, Victor stares into the forest. Christophe comes up to him, and says,

“Hey Victor, I’m sorry, but I’m not into you.”

“What? Oh… why not? Your emails seemed very… adoring and enthusiastic,” replies Victor, forcing himself to regain composure.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have sent that… Those emails were from someone else.”

“They were?” questions Victor, “Why did you lie to me?!” shouts Victor, suddenly losing control. He takes the pile of papers with the text of the play, and angrily throws them into the air. “I hate actors!” Victor stomps away.

 

Chris returns to camp, but instead of starting a fire, he sits in his hammock. Phichit follows him, and observes his discontent. Phichit builds a fire, rummages through Chris’s cooler, and heats some noodles with chicken. He serves Chris a big bowl, then sits and eats by the fire.

“I told Victor I didn’t write the emails… He’s mad,” grumbles Chris. Phichit nods and reassures him,

“I’ll explain to him tomorrow. I don’t want him to blame you for my mess…”

Phichit bites his lip. Chris is always in a good mood, it’s difficult to watch him be upset.

“Chris, Victor really likes you. His affection will return, I’m sure of it!” reassures Phichit.

“Victor is more interested in what you wrote, than in my looks.” Chris finishes his bowl, then sits back in the hammock. “Doesn’t deserve him,” mutters Chris.

“Victor would be lucky to have you,” encourages Phichit.

 

Meanwhile, upon seeing the altercation, Yuri chases after Victor.

“Victor? What happened? What did Chris do?” asks Yuri. Victor gesticulates for a while, muttering to himself. Eventually, he calms down a bit, and admits,

“I’m terribly sorry. Christophe has been lying to me, pretending to like me for some reason.”

“Really? I mean… Chris was flirting with you in the beginning, then he seemed to lose interest. He seems so straightforward…” replies Yuri, surprised.

“I need a drink. Does the tiny hamlet of Verona have a pub?” asks Victor. Yuri nods.

“It must,” reassures Yuri, checking his phone.

 

On Main street, they find the _All For One Pub_ , decorated with cheap wood paneling, lots of beer signs, and beer bottles. The place is packed with motorcycle riders, wearing leather vests and bandannas. Victor goes straight to the bar and orders a pint. Yuri finds a tiny corner table, and both of them squeeze in next to the wall. They are pressed together, from shoulder to thighs. Yuri watches Victor, concerned. After several beers, Yuri suggests,

“Perhaps you should order some food?”

Victor nods, and Yuri orders a burger. A ridiculously large cheeseburger shows up, with a steak knife impaled in the middle. Victor nods appreciatively.

“A metaphor for my heart. What does Rosalind say? _O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart_ , ” quotes Victor, holding his chest. He neatly slices the burger in two, sliding the other half towards Yuri. Yuri muses,

“It’s strange to hear you say that… You’re handsome and successful. Everyone is in love with you, that should protect you from heartbreak…”

Yuri pours ketchup on both their halves, a little bit on Victor’s, a lot on his own. Meanwhile, Victor puts paper napkins on each of their laps. It’s a simple little routine, but oddly both perform it as if they do it every day. Victor replies,

“Only the heartless are protected from love. In other areas of my life, I’ve grown wiser, more mature. But with love… I’m foolish, like a young boy.”

 

Victor drinks more beer, but shows no sign of intoxication. Yuri tentatively asks,

“How did Chris pretend to like you?”

“He’s been writing romantic emails to me… So sweet. I was quite enchanted,” laments Victor. Yuri frowns at this information.

“Chris doesn’t seem the type…” says Yuri, reflecting on Chris’s personality.

“He isn’t. The emails were from someone else… Blast! I didn’t ask who sent them...” suddenly remarks Victor.

“Oh… but I don’t need to,” murmurs Yuri, turning away in embarrassment. Victor registers the emotional change.

“I’m wise to you! I’ll be quiet and not reveal all my secrets,” Victor whispers loudly, with a little smile. Yuri smiles back.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m psychic, and I can ferret out your secrets anyways,” counters Yuri.

“In what way?” asks Victor, tilting his head.

“Palm reading. Phichit and I have done many odd jobs to earn money. We dress up in robes, Phichit hawks for customers, and I do the readings.”

Victor puts out his palm. Yuri hesitates for a moment, then takes the hand and squints at it. Victor feels a thrill at the touch, a sensual feelings at having his hand held. Yuri strokes the lines of his hands, delicately, and Victor closes his eye in pleasure. Is Yuri gay? Yuri’s comfortable with a man’s touch, but maybe that’s normal since he has a gay best friend. Victor opens his eyes and gazes at Yuri’s face.

“You’ve had trouble with love, but… it will get better. Oh! Much better. You’ll find true love!” adds Yuri, looking up at Victor with wide eyes. Victor grins and reproaches,

“You’re terrible! You shouldn’t lie to me… I suppose it’s better than the truth. Do you say that to everyone?”

Yuri shakes his head. He sighs, then pulls out his glasses. He studies Victor’s palm again, much more intently this time.

“Not at all. You had… an accident around age 10, and someone left… age 12? You’re very healthy… but you have a weakness with money… clothes shopping…?”

“Very good! I broke my arm when I was 9, and my father left when I was 13,” confirms Victor, “Have you been spying on my social media?”

Yuri shakes his head again, murmuring,

“No...”

“Then you’re good at reading people, or guessing…”

 

Victor takes Yuri’s hand and peers at it intently, caressing Yuri’s hand. Yuri stiffens. Victor murmurs melodramatically,

“You’ve never been in love. Your friendship with Phichit is filling that relationship void… Your family has had money problems, but they’re tight knit. You’ve been waiting for that special someone...” Yuri feels mesmerized by the blue gaze peering at him. Victor looks up at Yuri with a grin. “You look cute in glasses.” Victor runs a finger on Yuri’s palm, imitating him. “Ah, you’re a romantic! This is fun!”

Yuri blushes, then corrects,

“I’m a pragmatist. Phichit is the one looking for true love… maybe I’m waiting for him to leave home first.”

Victor continues to hold his hand, and jests,

“It’s like... The Taming of the Shrew! Phichit is the wild Kate who must be married before fair and sweet Bianca.”

“Except I’m the older one… I’d like a relationship like my parents have… They’ve been married almost 30 years. My mom asked around for a nice responsible man. She picked my father and that was that. My dad had no say in the matter.”

“So you’re waiting for a woman to pick you?” questions Victor pointedly.

“Something like that,” responds Yuri uncomfortably. Victor’s hand is soft and the contact is making his spine tingle, though Victor seems to have forgotten about their hands. Yuri looks up to see huge bald guy, with a leather motorcycle vest and skull tattoos, towering over them. Yuri pulls his hand back quickly, and the bald biker says,

“Couple of queers? I saw you from across the bar…” Yuri grabs Victor’s arm, ready to pull him away in a quick run. The biker continues, “... just some advice: Seize the fuckin’ day. You never know how long you’ve got with someone, I lost my Bubba two years ago. And not in a flame of glory either… he got impaled by a whipped cream can that exploded… Anyways, you two are gonna make it, as a couple. It’s in your body language, the way you share your food. Reminds me of good times…” finishes the man with a sniff. Victor pats the man’s back sympathetically, while Yuri lets go of Victor’s arm self-consciously.

 

Victor drinks a bit more, then leans his head on Yuri’s shoulder, snuggles in, holding him like a pillow.

“Um... Victor? I should walk you home,” Yuri tells him, pushing him out the door.

 


	12. Toil and Trouble

The next morning, Victor shows up at rehearsal horribly hung over and in a terrible mood. Everyone tiptoes around him, whispering their lines. During a break, Phichit with his head slumped forward, says,

“I must apologize, Victor, I’m obliged to say that…”

“Phichit, right now, my head hurts. I feel nauseous. And worst of all… I have a tattoo on my... hip. I’m terribly upset,” whispers Victor. Yuri comes up to him and whispers back,

“A tattoo? We stopped by the Kinky Ink Parlor , but I kept you from going in… I escorted you back to your B&B…”

“I must have returned on my own. It’s horrible,” wails Victor, keeled over, holding his head in his hands. Phichit hovers nearby for a moment, then sits away from the others, waiting for a better time to confess.

 

Later during a break, Victor approaches Christophe. The evening before, Yuri seemed to know who had written the emails, which means Yuri must have written them. Maybe Yuri hasn’t come to terms with being gay. He glances towards Yuri, then queries,

“Would your email writer meet me for dinner tonight?”

Christophe sighs, then nods affirmatively.

“I’ll tell him to meet you at that bakery,” agrees Christophe, with a bummed out look.

 

After rehearsal, Victor brings a romantic sonnet. He hands Yuri a copy of sonnet 20.

“Aloud, please,” orders Victor. Yuri squints at it for a moment, then self-consciously puts on his glasses. He reads,

 _“A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted_  
_Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;_  
_A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted_  
_With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;_  
_An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,_  
_Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;_  
_A man in hue, all “hues” in his controlling,_  
_Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth._  
_And for a woman wert thou first created;_  
_Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,_  
_And by addition me of thee defeated,_  
_By adding one thing to my purpose nothing._  
_But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure,_  
_Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.”_

 

“What’s the poem about?” asks Victor, observing Yuri carefully.

“ _ _A woman’s face…__ _It also says m_ _ _aster-mistress of my passion...”__ puzzles Yuri. “A man who looks like a woman?”

“A love poem from a man to a man,” continues Victor, wondering if Yuri will declare himself before the dinner. Victor strokes Yuri’s cheek and explains,

“The poem says your face is as pretty as a woman’s, but you don’t need makeup – you, the man-woman I love. Your heart is as gentle as a woman, but it isn’t false like theirs. Your eyes are prettier, but not as roving – you improve everything you look at. You’re handsome, and you attract both women and men.”

Yuri turns pink, and Victor hopes they can talk about their attraction. But Yuri continues,

“ _ _But since she pricked thee out for women’s pleasure...__ _what does that part mean?”_

“Oh, um... Nature gave you a penis to please women, I’ll keep your love, and women can enjoy your body.”

“You want my love, but not my body?” inquires Yuri with a raised eyebrow. Victor shakes his head.

“Not what I would have said. But maybe Shakespeare was gay, or bisexual, and couldn’t come to terms with it.”

“What does this have to do with acting?”

“Shakespeare’s sonnets are each little scenes. He wrote a cycle of 154 sonnets, which were published in 1609. The first 126 of those sonnets are addressed to a _man_ , not to a woman,” emphasizes Victor.

“So you want me to act the poem as a scene?” clarifies Yuri.

“Read it a few times, then we’ll play the scene. Declare yourself to me. I’ll stand here, the recipient of your love,” replies Victor, wondering if Yuri is being stupid, or pretending to be oblivious. Yuri swallows nervously. When Yuri ends with,

“ _ _Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure__ _..._ ” he comes near, and caresses Victor’s cheek, imitating Victor. They stand, inches from each other, gazing into each other’s eyes. Yuri breaks the spell,

“Well... that was… instructional,” Yuri says breathlessly, turning away. Victor reaches towards Yuri, wanting to touch him. But Yuri needs to stop hiding behind emails. Victor turns away and returns to the B&B.

 

Chris returns to his campsite, and though it’s early, builds up the fire. There’s some dark gray clouds gathering to the west. He texts Phichit to come over. Phichit circles warily, then finally sits in a chair opposite Chris.

“I told Victor about the emails,” says Chris. Phichit takes a deep breath, then asks,

“So have I been kicked out of the play?”

“Victor didn’t say. He wants to meet you for dinner.”

“He does? I’m at a loss for words… Did he seem angry? Vengeful? Or curious? Maybe he wants to berate me in public… You don’t think he’s interested in me… Do you?”

“I don’t know,” replies Chris sullenly. Then he grabs two big cookies, a large piece of chocolate, and some marshmallows, wraps it in an aluminum foil and sticks it on the edge of the fire.

“Smores? Did you already have dinner?” quizzes Phichit.

“This is my dinner,” Chris answers curtly.

 

Victor dresses up in a summer suit, and arrives early at the bakery. François comes out and apologizes,

“Sorry, I can’t make rehearsals, my wife needs me here at the bakery…”

Victor doesn’t have time to respond, when Phichit arrives.

“So… Victor… you must be angry and disgusted at my duplicity,” begins Phichit, looking despondent. Victor stares at Phichit stunned. All those emails about theater, and poetry… of course. The tone, the vocabulary, the youthful exuberance… it matches Phichit. Christophe would have said ‘ _Wassup dude_ ’ and Yuri… What would Yuri have said? Something sweet, and thoughtful? Yuri… no wonder he seemed confused by the sonnet.

“I’m a bit disappointed. I don’t like being lied to…” acknowledges Victor. Victor realizes when Yuri said someone liked him, he actually meant Phichit. Does that mean Yuri has no interest in him? Victor rubs his head in frustration.

“Please feel free to berate me and shame as much as possible!” pleads Phichit.

“Why did you do it?” questions Victor, wondering what Yuri is doing this evening.

“I’ve had a lot of people turn me down because of my appearance. I wondered if I resembled Chris, would you give me a chance?”

“Maybe. But you have so much personality, I imagine you’re... an acquired taste. So... your friend Yuri seems to care about you very much,” remarks Victor.

“Yes, he does. He’s always been there for me, I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Understandable. Also, would you tell me… is Yuri straight or gay?”

“That’s a mystery. Yuri is incredibly tight-lipped when it comes to his romantic life. I think he fell in love with our neighbor Yuko, and he’s never gotten over her. Although she is getting married, so maybe he’ll finally move on…”

 

 


	13. Tempest in a Teacup

The next morning, Chris and Phichit eat breakfast, then Chris reviews his lines. Phichit pours them both more coffee. Chris rubs his forehead trying to focus, then gives up and asks,

“How was dinner?”

“I was expecting worse. Cool, but not angry,” recalls Phichit, in a subdued tone.

“Why not give up?”

“Like Victor, I want to be wooed with words. I bet he’s masterful when he’s interested.”

“Sex is about touching, not talking,” counters Chris.

“Not true. Orlando and Rosalind talk on stage, and it’s hotter than porn,” insists Phichit.

“Really? I must not have the same script…” replies Chris, frowning at his script. Phichit quickly reads through their lines, and shows him a passage.

“Rosalind as Ganymede teaches Orlando how to woo…”

“Woo? She teaches him how to bang?” clarifies Chris.

“Not how to have sex, how to gain a woman’s love. She pretends to be a woman, so Orlando can practice his words.”

“Rosalind is a woman,” corrects Chris.

“Rosalind is a woman pretending to be a boy. And since she’s a boy, it is taboo for the two of them to flirt. So she’s a woman pretending to be a boy, pretending to be a woman.”

Chris rubs his forehead and complains,

“Man, this play is confusing! What does she teach Orlando?”

“Ganymede says: ‘How would you treat me, if I were Rosalind?’

Orlando replies: ‘I would kiss her, before she says anything.’

And she says: ‘Wrong! You have to talk, until you’re gravelled, confused, with nothing left to say. _Then_ kiss.’ ”

“Why so much talking?” demands Chris, sounding annoyed.

“Because it shows you’re not just into sex, you’re interested in the person. Then Orlando asks ‘What if she won’t kiss me in the end?’ ”

“Well, that means that Rosalind isn’t that into Orlando,” insists Chris.

“Nope. It means she wants him to beg, and that will give Orlando more to talk about.”

Chris scratches his head, then asks,

“And you think these words are hot?”

“Yes! The discourse is well-crafted, it’s witty! Rosalind wants to kiss Orlando, but isn’t ready yet to give up her disguise. As Ganymede, she’s free to talk, and argue and... be herself!”

Chris frowns.

“And... how does Orlando react?”

“Orlando wants to kiss Rosalind, and is confused by also wanting to kiss Ganymede, a boy. Chris, imagine you grew up straight and you’re attracted to a boy, wouldn’t that be confusing?”

Phichit stops as Yuri comes near.

“Phichit, you confuse me all the time,” murmurs Chris.

 

At the stage area, Victor announces the first scene of the day,

“Rosalind, as Ganymede, makes Orlando practice wooing, a girl teaching a boy. That subverts the gender norm of men teaching women.”

Victor watches Christophe and Phichit do the scene. His feelings are conflicted about being duped. He was elated at first when he thought Christophe was his perfect match, but now… Why do his thoughts return to Yuri? Focus on the scene. Christophe and Phichit seemed ill matched at the beginning of rehearsals, Victor had considered playing Orlando himself. But now… something feels different. Phichit as Ganymede is saying,

“ _Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel.”_

Victor watches the interplay stunned, the clever words are zipping back and forth. For once, Christophe knows his lines, and his acting is... magnetic. But there’s also an intangible difference… The next scene is even better.

 

Phichit continues his lines, walking away from Chris,

“ _Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humour and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very, very Rosalind?”_

Chris circles towards Phichit and replies,

“ _I would kiss before I spoke,”_ roughly pulling Phichit close, til their lips almost touch. Phichit’s eyes go wide, taken aback by his action. But Phichit goes with it and chides him,

_“Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking – God warn us! – matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.”_

Chris gets close to Phichit again and demands,

“ _How if the kiss be denied?”_

Phichit licks his lips, wondering if anyone had ever denied Chris.

“ _Then she puts you to entreaty, there begins new matter.”_

Chris asks with an innocent smile,

“ _Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?”_

Phichit licks his lips again, seeming ready for a kiss, then scuttles away nervously.

 

Victor watches with surprise. Ganymede looks about to kiss Orlando. Whatever chemistry was lacking in the beginning, now their scenes are sizzling. What changed? Victor catches Yuri’s eyes for a moment, and feels a spark of connection. Then he looks back again, only to see a blank look. He strides towards Yuri,

“Yuri, can you tell the difference between someone acting with romantic interest, versus actual romantic interest?”

“With a good actor, maybe not. The trick is to look between the scenes, while the actor is offstage,” answers Yuri, walking on stage for his next scene. Victor mutters to himself,

“You perplex me. Sometimes there’s a bond between us, and other times, it’s all in my imagination. I must find out the truth.”

 

As they finish rehearsing, large drops of rain fall from the sky. Victor reaches over and opens a large umbrella, while everyone else scrambles to protect their things from getting wet. Chris finds a large trash bag, and motions to Phichit to walk back with him to the campground. Victor escorts Yuri, helping him with his long dress. At the tent, Phichit sees the old canvas tent is leaking water inside.

“Dark plague of boils! We might as well sleep under a tree,” cries Phichit. Chris quickly grabs Phichit’s and Yuri’s stuff, and shoves it into his tent.

“Phichit, there’s room in my tent, we can even squeeze three of us, if we have to…” offers Chris. Victor interjects,

“Yuri can stay with me at the bed-and-breakfast, it has a lovely Victorian decor. There’s an extra cot under the bed that rolls out. Do you want your suitcase?”

In a daze, Yuri grabs his duffel bag. Yuri follows Victor towards the inn, then Yuri stops, and protests,

“I feel bad. I should switch with Phichit, he…”

Yuri tries to think of excuses. But Phichit loves to camp even in bad weather, and always rants against cutesy inns. Victor waits a moment, then clarifies,

“I’d prefer to keep some distance from Phichit for the time being. The invitation is only for you.”

Yuri gulps, then continues to follow Victor, who takes the duffel and hands Yuri the umbrella.

 

Chris and Phichit get into their respective sleeping bags. Phichit tosses and turns, then sighs loudly.

“Are you upset you’re in the tent with me, instead of the B&B?” asks Chris.

“Yes. No. Yes,” replies Phichit.

“That makes sense…” Chris says ironically **.**

“Honestly… I keep missing my chance! You kissed Victor, Yuri kissed Victor... but I’m not upset to be in the tent, I hate B&Bs. Just because I’m gay and wear outlandish clothes, doesn’t mean I like lace pillows and doilies. I like the outdoors, I like sports, and I love tents in the rain. The sound of rain drops on nylon, while snuggling in a sleeping bag…”

“Yeah, I like that too.” Chris turns towards Phichit and asks, “Why are you still a virgin?”

Phichit huffs and replies,

“Why are you messing with boys? Just because Victor is gorgeous?”

“It bothers you I’m trying out guys?”

Phichit scrunches his face, then nods.

“Being gay is difficult!! You shouldn’t dabble in it,” informs Phichit.

“Are you going to be a top or a bottom?” asks Chris.

“Zounds!! Where did you learn the art of conversation? A rustic bordello?” exclaims Phichit. Chris laughs for a moment.

“I forgot your hand...” says Chris, getting a flashlight and his first aid kit. Phichit rolls his eyes.

“I can look after myself…” whines Phichit, childishly hiding his hand in his sleeping bag. Chris stares him down for a moment, then reaches over and palpates Phichit’s left shoulder.

“Ow! What are you doing?” yelps Phichit. Chris pulls back Phichit’s shirt, revealing an angry red welt.

“I forgot to clean the place that fishing hook got you, it looks infected. Fish mouth bacteria…” explains Chris. Phichit grimaces as Chris dabs his shoulder with alcohol, then applies a band-aid.

“Right. Victor went fishing, and the only thing he caught was me. But I wasn’t much of a catch, so he threw me back,” laments Phichit. Then Chris lightly caresses Phichit’s neck, to which Phichit responds with an automatic grab and twist. Chris does a counter move, peels Phichit’s right hand off his arm, and inspects the bandage. Phichit relents with a sigh.

“Why are you still a virgin?” Chris asks again.

“Why do you keep asking embarrassing questions?” Phichit wants to argue more, but his skin is feeling flushed from the touch. “Ugh, fine. I was in love with Dwight. Dwight was good-looking and popular, a soccer player. I even joined the soccer team. One day, Dwight called me a fag and we got into a fight. We both got detention. Afterwards, he kissed me in the bathroom. I was planning to go all the way with him, but my father found out I had detention and grounded me. Dwight pretended I didn’t exist the next day, and I decided to wait for true love. More romantic than saying nobody wants me.”

“I’ve never been with a guy either,” admits Chris. Phichit frowns at him, and asks,

“Then how do you know you like guys?”

“How do _you_ know you like guys?” echoes back Chris.

“My fantasies. And the way I feel when I’m close to certain guys…” Phichit stops, not wanting to admit Chris is one of them.

“Yeah, me too. Do you like ocean fishing? I like trolling for salmon,” continues Chris.

“Sure,” replies Phichit, puzzled by the change of topic. Phichit hides his face in his sleeping bag. He really wants to be kissed, then stroked, and maybe undressed… No. He should not let hormones decide his first encounter… There’s a long moment of silence, interrupted by the pitter patter of more rain.

“Phichit… just to be clear, I’m not trying to have sex with you…”

“I hope not! This would make your seduction of Victor seem romantic by comparison,” replies Phichit, oddly disappointed.

“Yeah, you’re better at romance... Thing is, when we kissed for Orlando and Rosalind’s wedding... I got turned on.”

“I was pretending that didn’t happen,” mumbles Phichit. Chris leans on an elbow, facing Phichit.

“So you enjoyed that too…” clarifies Chris.

“You know I did! I’m just glad my skirt was hiding things,” admits Phichit. “And don’t worry, it doesn’t mean you like men. We were in character, and I was cute and girly looking.”

“Not right now,” corrects Chris.

“I’m not cute right now?”

“We’re not acting right now. So kiss me.”

“No. Why don’t you kiss me?” retorts Phichit, feeling ornery.

“I’ve already kissed you twice. It’s your turn.”

“Not real kisses. They don’t count,” decides Phichit. Chris leans over and Phichit licks his lips in anticipation.

“Are you waiting for Victor to kiss you?” asks Chris, backing away suddenly.

“I’ll be old and wrinkled up before that happens…” scoffs Phichit.

“So why not kiss me?” repeats Chris.

“No! If you don’t like it, I’ve been rejected. If you do like it, well, let’s not think about that…” argues Phichit. Chris lays back down, gazing up at the top of the tent. Phichit sits up, annoyed. He leans over, and presses his lips on Chris’s. There’s a feeling, a warm heat, unfurling in his body… Phichit lays on top of Chris, he can feel warm hands exploring his back, then wandering to his backside. Then he can feel fingers underneath his shirt slowly caressing his skin… Phichit loses track of time. Things escalate, until he finds himself on his side, Chris grinding into the back of his pants, while rubbing Phichit’s crotch with his hand.

“I want to have sex!” exclaims Phichit aroused and frustrated. Chris blinks, trying to focus.

“Uh… I guess I have condoms somewhere…”

“No, not now! My body is ready but… I’m not,” wails Phichit.

“Sure. Okay,” Chris replies agreeably, rolling away to calm things down.

“Stewed prunes!” mutters Phichit, sitting back up. Chris chuckles, then asks,

“Why do you say such weird expressions?”

“My father was very strict. He punished us if we said bad words. I learned Shakespearean insults so I could express myself without being grounded.”

“So... did you like kissing me?” asks Chris.

“Well… you’re very good-looking. And I haven’t made out... in too long.”

“I didn’t know you liked my looks. Mmm, kissing feels good...” Chris admits huskily.

 

Phichit stares at the top of the tent. He feels like he’s about to burst. He tosses and turns for a while.

“Chris… are you sleeping?” finally whispers Phichit.

“Nope.”

“I was thinking of how in the play, the court is bound by rules. The forest represents freedom. The freedom to dress differently, to love who you want, to talk the same way to a Duke as to a commoner. And the forest of Arden resembles Eden. There are deer, lions, and snakes in the forest… that doesn’t sound like a forest in France. Are the snake and lion allegorical?” muses Phichit.

“Maybe. The lion could be the Duke in exile, and the snake... forbidden love,” decides Chris.

“Ooh, and the deer?”

“The prey that needs to be chased? I don’t know. Are you always this nervous when you’re attracted to someone?” asks Chris.

“Oh, for all the clouds of heaven! Pretend nothing’s going on, so we can both get to sleep!” admonishes Phichit.

“Oh. Okay… Give me your hand, it’ll help me sleep.”

Phichit reaches out, and Chris takes his hand. The blond knucklehead is right. Phichit begins to fall asleep, soothed by the contact.

“Phichit?”

“What?” says Phichit, with a yawn.

“I think you’re a bottom,” Chris informs him helpfully.

“I think you’re an ass,” grumbles Phichit, but continues to hold hands.

 

At the inn, Victor notices the innkeeper appears to be out, so he brings Yuri straight to his room. Yuri keeps his distance, and puts his stuff in the corner of the room. Victor sits on the edge of the white metal bed, and distractedly removes little lace pillows from the bed, placing them in a drawer.

“About Phichit…” begins Victor.

“…you’re not romantically interested. But you’d like to remain friends,” finishes Yuri.

“Sorry, yes.”

“Everyone has that reaction. I just wish for his sake, someone would see how amazing he is…” responds Yuri with a sigh.

“You’re amazing. You’re invisible at first, you hide in plain sight. But the more I look at you, the more layers and depth I’m finding…” explains Victor.

“Phichit has layers and depth as well!” Yuri defends loyally. Victor nods. Having put away a dozen decorative pillows, he pushes the old drawer shut.

“I’m not blind to that. I hate to admit it, but perhaps there’s no chemistry with Phichit because... we’re a bit similar…” confesses Victor reluctantly. Yuri smiles at that.

“You’re both passionate, and wordy, and stupendous actors… It’s obvious once you said it.”

“So… were you acting at the end of the play?” Victor inquires hesitantly.

“Hopefully I was acting through the whole play!” retorts Yuri.

“I meant... were you pretending to enjoy that kiss at the end,” clarifies Victor. Yuri turns away, and opens his bag looking for his pajamas. Yuri mumbles,

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. There’s something between us…” adds Victor, trying to get a response from Yuri. Yuri keeps his back turned, insisting,

“Victor, we shouldn’t talk about this. It’s not right.”

Victor comes up behind him, and feels Yuri’s body tense up. Victor whispers,

“But your lips… they’re so soft, and they made my knees go weak…”

“Stop,” whispers Yuri softly, sounding tortured. Victor touches Yuri’s cheek, and tilts Yuri’s head closer.

“But I can’t stop thinking how your mouth felt…”

Yuri closes his eyes.

“Have you ever fooled around... with a guy? You can tell me the truth,” insists Victor. “Are you... attracted to me?”

“If I tell you, you can’t tell Phichit. Agreed?” bargains Yuri. Victor nods in agreement. Yuri bites his lip, confesses,

“I wasn’t acting. I find you captivating, enchanting, but... you’re off limits to me. My best friend has feelings for you, I can’t hurt him. _Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires._ Macbeth, as Phichit would say.” Yuri covers his face with his hands, then bemoans, “Ugh! The irony of spending all my time with one Shakespeare nut, only to be attracted to another...”

“You find my interests too narrow, too excessive?” inquires Victor. Yuri shakes his head.

“No. I’m fascinated by Shakespearean theater. And it makes you difficult to resist. I’ve been conditioned by my best friend to be enthralled by the bard’s language.”

“Unfortunately, Phichit deceived me. I have no loyalty to him.” Victor hesitates, then murmurs in Yuri’s ear, _“_ _Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine, though mine be not so fair, yet are they red.”_ Victor traces Yuri’s bottom lip with his thumb. _“_ _The kiss shall be thine own... as well as mine.”_

Victor watches Yuri waver, apparently turned on by _Venus and Adonis_. How unbearably sweet! Yuri turns and grabs Victor’s collar, and pulls him in for a passionate kiss. Victor thoroughly enjoys the moment, and feels his shirt open, and hands on his belt.

“Oh... Yuri... are you sure...?”

“Sorry... I thought you wanted...” Yuri steps back. “I should go back to the campground.”

Victor grabs Yuri’s hand, and cries,

“Wait!”

Yuri stops, but his head is down.

“I’m ready to leap with you, but... would you slow down?”

Yuri nods. He unbuckles Victor’s pants, then ever so slowly unzips them. Victor moans,  
“Too slow...”

Overwhelmed with desire, they quickly tear off each other’s clothes and fall onto the bed.

 

The next morning, Victor wakes up with the delicious feeling of another body curled up in his. Then he remembers. Yuri. Last night... he gives Yuri a kiss, then says,

“Last night was not what I expected...” Victor sits up suddenly, amazed. “What’s going on? You’ve obviously been with guys before, you’re a wonderful lover!! However, you gave me the impression you’re straight, and maybe a virgin…?”

Yuri looks away embarrassed, then admits,

“Yes, force of habit. I’m not out, and I only recently explored physically... Phichit is very competitive, and he’s several years younger. If he knew I was sexually active, he’d feel pressured to date. He’s a virgin. This way, he’ll wait till he’s ready.”

“Yuri… I don’t want you to misconstrue… what this means...”

Yuri kisses Victor’s neck and runs his hand downwards.

“Oooooh...” moans Victor.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, now it’s my turn…” murmurs Yuri, dragging his lips towards the cleft of Victor’s cheeks. “By the way, I like the tattoo. The rose is well done, and it’s a quote from Shakespeare…” Yuri avoids the area, it’s still raw and red. Victor groans,

“Don’t even mention that horrific mistake. That I, of all people, should have a misquote from Shakespeare on my buttocks...”

“ _A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,”_ reads Yuri.

“The quote is inaccurate. The line from Juliet says ‘ _What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet’_ ” then Victor forgets what he’s saying as Yuri uses his mouth all around the tattoo.

“Your rosy cheeks are sweet either way,” replies Yuri, smiling mischievously, as Victor moans again.

 

Phichit wakes up early, hearing a light rain. Chris’s tent is well made and they are both dry. Phichit receives a text:

– _Rehearsal cancelled due to weather. Go over your lines!_ ‘ _For the rain it raineth every day.’_

He glances over at Chris, not sure how to act after the make out session. He quickly grabs a rain slicker, and unzips the tent. He steps out to only to fall into someone. It takes him a moment to gather his wits and recognize Sara’s face attached to the body.

“Eww, who’re you?!” she exclaims, now sitting in mud.

“Phichit... you know, the very _gay_ one...” he emphasizes. Sara pushes him off, and stands up, sighing at her wet muddy backside. She asks,

“Oh right. Why were you in Chris’s tent?”

“My tent was lacking in water resistance...” Phichit takes in the tiny top revealing more cleavage than hiding, and very short shorts. “Isn’t Chris your ex?”

Sara nods and says,

“We’ve been on a break. But Chris must be really pent up by now, since there aren’t any women in the cast... ” she mutters to herself. Phichit frowns, then grabs a cereal bar and goes out for a long hike in the rain. He stays out till Chris goes to bed, then creeps back in for the night.

 

 


	14. Hot and Moist

The next day, the skies are clear, but the ground is still muddy. During rehearsal, Yuri toys with Victor. When others aren’t looking, he sucks his thumb suggestively. Victor turns away, only to catch eyes with Phichit. Not wanting to give away Yuri’s secret, he looks up into the trees imagining a turnoff.

“Bitter tea, crumpets, the Queen of England,” recites Victor.

“Big Ben, cricket bat, tennis balls,” adds Phichit helpfully. Victor frowns, those words sound sexual to him.

“No. I need to think of... calming words...” explains Victor vaguely.

“Hot, moist, steamy... buns! That bakery makes delicious treats, I find them soothing...”

Frustrated, Victor walks away from Phichit. While Chris and Phichit are on stage, Yuri pulls Victor behind a large tree trunk.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath this skirt…” whispers Yuri into Victor’s ear. Victor presses Yuri into the tree, kissing him, and trying to get his hand under the voluminous skirt.

“You’re a monstrous tease, and your lips are like wine, I want to get drunk on them…” murmurs Victor.

“Victor!” calls out one of the cast members. Yuri jumps away quickly, glancing around guiltily.

 

Phichit is off to the side, changing from his female to male costume while avoiding the mud. Yuri approaches him to help.

“Victor won’t forgive my catfishing,” huffs Phichit, struggling to unlace his bodice.

“Phichit… I need to talk to you about him, Victor, I mean...” begins Yuri, tugging the laces loose. Phichit nods and says,

“I know. Victor is perfect, right? Blond beauty, piercing blue eyes, exquisite vocabulary, and he dresses with taste and elegance… He’s a successful actor, mostly devoted to Shakespeare. I mean, it’s hard to imagine someone more perfect... Compare that to… Chris, just as an example. Chris is too tall, he dresses like grunge is still in style, he sounds like a surfer. He’s good-looking, in a dumb pool boy kind of way,” complains Phichit.

“Okay…? So… about Victor, I… may have…” continues Yuri hesitantly.

“So, I’m not interested in Chris. I like Victor. He resents me after what happened, but maybe with time he’ll come to like me. The next act is starting, let’s go.”

“I see. Okay,” responds Yuri, resigned.

 

Chris ambles over to Phichit several times, but Phichit avoids him and hovers next to Victor. Sara watches the interaction, and approaches Chris.

“Why are you following Phichit? Do you need to talk to him?”

“We had a... moment, I’m trying to find out if he likes me.”

“But... uh... what?! Is this the Gay Magical Woods? Or a side effect of male theater...” Sara reflects for a moment. She demands with a furious whisper, “Are you pretending to like guys to get rid of me?”

“No. I think I’m bisexual. After all, I like tacos and hot dogs, and... any other kind of food,” muses Chris. Sara grimaces at him.

“But Phichit? All he does is nerdishly quote Shakespeare. I could’ve played Rosalind a lot better than him,” whines Sara. She and Chris go on stage to perform the next scene. Sara, as Jaques, says in disbelief while looking over at Phichit,

“ _Rosalind is your love’s name?”_

Chris as Orlando replies,

“ _Yes, just.”_

Sara says meanly,

“ _I do not like HER name,”_ then mouths the word Phichit. Chris snipes,

“ _There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.”_

Sara says dismissively,

“ _What stature is she of?”_

Chris motions to his chest,

“ _Just as high as my heart.”_

 

Chris exits the stage, comes up behind Phichit, and presses him close.

“What are you doing?” demands Phichit, spinning quickly out of arm’s length.

“I’m checking your height. It’s just like Orlando says in the play, you’re as high as my heart.”

“Numbskull! Orlando was being metaphorical, not literal,” replies Phichit, leaving to find Victor again.

“Who says I’m not?” protests Chris.

 

Sara returns to Chris and demands,

“What was that? Were you trying to _flirt_ with Phichit?”

“Sort of... he likes fancy words, poetry and stuff,” explains Chris.

“Which you suck at... You’ve had it easy, women always chased you…” declares Sara, wide-eyed. Chris nods his head.

“I’m not sure what to do,” replies Chris, watching Phichit perplexed. Sara glares at Phichit for a moment.

“Take it slow. Are you trying to seduce him or woo him?” she asks. Chris frowns in return. Again she asks, gritting her teeth, “You want his _dick_ or his heart?”

Sara watches Chris look downwards, searching for words.

“I… was thinking of taking him out… for salmon…” Chris hesitantly replies.

“What!” yelps Sara. Sara points at Phichit. “Chris, if you take him fishing,… I will tie you both up, and force you to watch bad videos... like those juggling clowns singing Othello…” she threatens and stomps off. Phichit comes towards them, then watches her leave quizzically.

“Why is she mad?” asks Phichit.

“She wants me to take her fishing,” grumbles Chris.

“Oh. Sara likes to fish?”

“Nope. She hates it,” replies Chris, grabbing his script to go over his lines again.

 

Victor, at the other side of the muddy stage, muses to Yuri,

“We actors play at being in love, but do we learn anything from it? Are we any less foolish in our desires, wise in our decisions?”

Yuri is changing back into his noblewoman dress, and replies,

“No. Actors are worse. You, for example, are way too romantic to fall in love with someone sensible and compatible. Were you not interested in Chris?” Yuri bites his lip, then requests, “Spend some time with Phichit this evening. Help him get over his Victor crush.”

Victor shakes his head,

“I’m leaving in a few days, I’d rather spend time with you…” pleads Victor. But Yuri looks unyielding.

“I’m spending the evening alone, going over my lines. If I see you, we won’t get any sleep.”

“I will promise to sleep, and... barely touch you...” entreats Victor.

“Barely... as in scarcely, or as in nakedly?” Yuri asks suspiciously.

“As in hardly...” replies Victor, emphasizing _hard._ Yuri groans,

“I don’t trust you, or your _slippery_ tongue,” murmurs Yuri.

“You don’t trust yourself, so put your care in my hands...” suggests Victor, caressing Yuri’s arm.

“I can’t... I won’t...” Yuri musters his self control and adds, “ _Love is your master, for he masters you; and he that is so yoked by a fool, methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.”_

Yuri looks around, points towards Phichit, then pushes Victor away.

“Take care of Phichit,” declares Yuri, then he escapes. Victor recognizes that quote from _Two Gentlemen From Verona_.

“Clever. We’re in Verona, Oregon. Yuri, you’re the moon following the sun, but now the moon is eclipsing the brilliant sun.”

 

Chris walks over to Phichit and begins,

“I’m baking potatoes in the fire tonight...”

Then Victor strides over and offers,

“Phichit, you’re welcome to dine with me at the B&B tonight. I’m still upset, but Yuri has convinced me we should… have another chat.”

Phichit looks at Chris, then at Victor, unnerved by the two offers. He gives an apologetic glance to Chris, then responds,

“ _Consumed with that which it was nourished by_... Thank you, Victor. It would be an honor to dine with you.”

Victor accepts with resignation, as Chris turns away in disappointment.

 

Phichit shows up with a bouquet of wildflowers. Victor takes them politely. They enter a small dining room with floral wallpaper, and a fragile looking table covered with a white crocheted tablecloth.

“A giant doily,” mutters Phichit. Victor looks up puzzled, asking,

“Beg your pardon?”

“It’s very… Victorian,” replies Phichit out loud, repulsed by the decor. Victor nods.

“It’s lovely. The woman in charge has a porcelain tea set, and she bakes scones each morning. None of the dirt and discomfort of camping. But, you and Yuri like to camp…”

“I love being out in the woods. The more primitive the better. Yuri doesn’t care so much about his surroundings, it’s the company he cares about.”

A pleasant middle-age woman serves them white chicken breast, with mashed potatoes and peas.

“I’m Beverly. Aren’t you two a cute couple!” she coos. Victor and Phichit eat in strained silence. Phichit shifts uncomfortably on his chair, eventually removing a lace cushion from his back, and placing it on a nearby chair. Victor gestures to the cushion.

“Pretty work, not? Bev does the needlepoint herself...”

Phichit changes the subject and queries,

“Which of Shakespeare’s plays is your favorite? I can divine your personality from your choice.”

Victor ponders that for a moment.

“Difficult, I like them all. But, _Richard III_ is usually my favorite tragedy. But I have a soft spot for the silly and supernatural antics of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_.”

“Let’s see… that means you appreciate complex personalities, you’re a romantic, and you’ve been involved in a love triangle,” analyses Phichit triumphantly. Victor winces, then politely returns the question,

“And what about you?”

“So many choices… Yuri likes _The Tempest_. He likes to read for hours on end, and he keeps an aura of magic and mystery about him. And he’s a fun drunk. I like… _Much Ado About Nothing_.”

“Why is that?”

Phichit frowns, realizing the play reminds him of Chris playing Claudio. Could Chris manage the tougher role of Benedict? Then Phichit could play Beatrice opposite him...

“Uh... I like wordplay as foreplay…” answers Phichit, reminded that kissing was also fun foreplay.

 

Victor reflects on Yuri liking _The Tempest_. And reading... which books does Yuri like? Victor realizes Phichit is waiting silently. Victor responds,

“I can see you as part of an old married couple bickering on the surface, but completely in love,”

Victor remembers Phichit and Yuri hugging, Phichit and Yuri camping together. Yuri always doing everything for Phichit. Yuri waiting for Phichit to be ready to have sex. Oh. Maybe that’s why Yuri keeps his sex life a secret. Yuri is waiting for Phichit. Victor puts down his fork, losing his appetite.

 

Meanwhile, Phichit is pushing the potatoes around on his plate, they seem bland and watery. Baked potatoes in the coals are the best... Phichit wishes he was back at the campground. He misses… the baked potato.

 

Phichit prepares to leave, when he hears the loud rumbling of thunder. A few drops fall, then it begins to rain heavily. Beverly offers,

“Stay here, dear, I won’t charge you anything.”

“But...” protests Phichit. Victor adds,

“Yuri will sleep in Chris’s tent. There won’t be much room. You should stay here.”

Phichit howls towards the sky,

“ _You scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe!_ ”

Then everything goes dark and quiet. The innkeeper lights an oil lamp. She sighs,

“Power outage. I adore my old house but… she requires a lot of maintenance.”

Phichit grabs a flashlight and offers,

“I helped my father turn our garage into a studio. Show me your electrical panel.”

Phichit works for almost an hour rewiring the panel. The lights go back on. Beverly exclaims,

“You’re a lifesaver! You’re welcome here anytime… and I’ll get you some cheesecake, free, on the house.”

Once he’s done, Beverly and Phichit watch an old VHS tape of Lawrence Olivier performing Hamlet, while Victor goes to bed.

 


	15. The Play Is The Thing

Saturday morning is clear and sunny – a perfect day for the public performance. Phichit arrives at Chris’s tent, and sees Yuri in Chris’s sleeping bag next to Chris. They are both dressed, and laying as far from each other as the bag allows. Phichit feels a twinge in his gut, but he ignores it. He quickly grabs some clothes from his suitcase, then changes. Then as he zips the tent closed, Chris rolls over and proprietorially places his arm over Yuri. Phichit feels another twist in his midsection, but he shrugs and walks over to the performance area. A large group of people show up with folding chairs, and a few with tarps and blankets. Phichit puts on his noblewoman dress, and dabs on makeup. Victor arrives and sets up a tarp for the backstage area, and delineates the stage with rope. For some reason, every action Victor does rubs Phichit the wrong way. The way he waves his arm elegantly, and his deep sighs as he warms up. Victor eventually comes over to greet Phichit. Phichit gives him a quick hug; then remembering the soggy mashed potatoes, a livid glance. Confused, Victor backs away quickly. Next, Yuri arrives with Chris following. Yuri hesitantly approaches Phichit and asks,

“How did it go last night?”

Phichit forces himself to smile, and exclaims loudly,

“Fine. Sorry I didn’t come back, but my services were needed. Beautiful evening, I was very popular last night, lots of electrical connections, stayed up late…”

Yuri stares at him in shock, while Chris freezes nearby, obviously having overheard.

 

Victor assembles the cast and leads the warm up. Several actors are missing. Victor checks his roster, and announces,

“I’m missing the actors playing old Adam, Monsieur Le Beau, that freckled kid as Audrey... ”

“They texted their tent collapsed in the storm, and they left,” Yuri informs Victor glumly. Bret chimes in,

“Instead of going on stage, they jumped ship ...” his hand miming a sinking ship.

“... and... where is Mike?” queries Victor with a grimace, while rubbing his brow. Sara says,

“Oh... um, he’s been... slow?” She balls her fists in anger. “I’ll get him, drag him by the balls if I have to...” she threatens, leaving to find him.

“Be back for scene two, I beg you!” pleads Victor, wondering if going forward with the play is a mistake.

 

Victor delays the play for 15 minutes. Finally, he asks the actors,

“Do you want to perform? We could tell our audience somebody died... maybe me...”

Phichit nods vigorously. Victor frowns, unsure if Phichit is supporting the performance, or his death. Yuri looks around at their small group, then states,

“We’ve worked so hard, can we do the play with three actors missing?”

“Just edit some scenes,” insists Phichit. Victor glances at Yuri, and Yuri nods. Victor decides,

“I can make it happen. Hopefully, the others will show up late, otherwise keep going, um...”

“The show must go on!” finishes Phichit.

 

Bret goes on stage with the script and announces,

“ACT I, SCENE I. The orchard of Oliver’s house. Two brothers, Orlando and Oliver, are arguing.”

Victor frowns at the announcement, feeling it disturbs suspension of disbelief for the audience. But the actors are barely weaned from their scripts, and need the cues... Chris walk on stage, and Victor follows. Victor begins by questioning angrily, omitting the earlier lines with old Adam.

“ _Now, sir! What make you here?”_

Chris replies moodily,

“ _Nothing: I am not taught to make anything.”_

Victor questions with disdain,

“ _What mar you then, sir?”_

Chris leans against a tree,

“ _Marry, sir, I’m helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with_ _idleness.”_

Victor instructs him,

“ _Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.”_

Chris picks up a stick and offers,

“ _Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should_ _come to such penury?”_

Victor looks insulted and yells,

“ _Know you where your are, sir?”_

Chris whacks a tree with the stick,

“ _O, sir, very well; here in **your** orchard.”_

Victor seems irate by the lack of respect and continues,

“ _Know you before whom, sir?”_

Chris strides over, till he is an inch away from Victor’s face, and looks ready to hit him. Then he drops the stick and grabs Victor’s doublet with both hands.

 

Offstage,Yuri watches Victor with a worried look. He whispers to Phichit,

“They both seem really angry, this is not acting!”

Phichit nods and gestures towards Chris; then he decides to leave it alone. Chris didn’t even say hello this morning, and Victor deserves some punishment for liking cutesy pillows.

 

“ _Will you lay hands on me, villain?_ ” cries Victor as Oliver, tapping into his rage about the emails. Chris responds with his own frustration, roughly pinning Victor to the ground.

“ _I’m no villain; I’m the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; ...he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains.”_ Chris puts his hands around Victor’s throat. _“Were you not my brother, I would not take this hand from your_ _ **throat**_ _! ...til this other had pulled out your_ _ **tongue**_ _for saying so: you had railed on yourself.”_

Victor, now laying on the ground, looks up at Christophe with astonishment at the intensity of the anger.

“ _Let me go, I say...”_ begs Victor, trembling. Chris leaves Victor on the ground and stomps off stage. Phichit and Yuri stare in shock. Victor gets up and collects himself a moment, before his interaction with Chuck.

 

Next, Chuck, as Charles the wrestler, says to Victor,

“ _There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old news: the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke; ...and three or four lords have put themselves into exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; therefore he gives them leave to wander.”_

Victor asks.

“ _Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter, be banished with her father?”_

Chuck replies,

“ _O, no. For the Duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She’s at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies..._ _ **loved**_ _as they do,”_ emphasizes Chuck, making them sound like lesbian lovers. Victor frowns. He wonders about the relationship between Yuri and Phichit, as they stand side by side in their fancy gowns.

 

At the end of the scene, Victor takes the stage by himself, and everyone turns to watch him. He uses his anger with Chris to fuel the scene. There is a steeliness, a disturbing violence to his voice, as he mutters loudly,

“ _Now will I stir this gamester:_

 _I hope I shall see an end of him;”_ he makes the motion of strangling with his hands, “… _for my soul, yet I know not why, **hates** nothing more than he. Yet he’s gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether... misprised:”_

Victor pauses, and seems to come to a decision. He picks up the stick Chris dropped.

“ _But it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither; which now I’ll go about,”_ threatens Victor, snapping the stick. Phichit claps, and Yuri watches, impressed.

 

Chris waits for Victor to be done, then he pulls Victor away from the stage area.

“Do you love him?” demands Chris. Victor shrugs his shoulders, puzzled. Chris grabs Victor’s doublet again.

“Beg your pardon?” yelps Victor.

“Phichit! He’s infatuated with you, don’t take advantage of him!”

“So sorry, I don’t share his feelings, I spent the evening with him to… clarify things,” awkwardly explains Victor. Chris growls at him,

“Stay away from him, or I’ll strangle you for real.”

Victor is reeling from his encounter with Chris, as he walks over to Yuri.

“Do you know why Chris is so upset?” asks Victor, still shaken.

“No.”

Yuri turns away, avoiding any more interaction. Victor wants to talk more, but he needs to edit the whole script...

 

“ACT I, SCENE II. The lawn before the Duke’s palace, Celia tries to cheer up her cousin Rosalind, whose father the Duke has been overthrown,” announces Bret. _Yuri comes on stage wondering about Phichit’s evening with Victor. How far did it go? Victor often gets caught up in the emotion of the moment, plus he probably gets around... A_ _s Celia,_ he accuses Rosalind with more sarcasm than usual,

“ _Herein I see you love me not with the full weight that I love thee...”_

Phichit avoids looking at Yuri.

“ _Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours,”_ says Phichit half-heartedly. Yuri responds,

“ _You know my father has no child but I, nor none is like to have: and, truly, when he dies, you shall  
be his heir, for what he has taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honor, I will; and when I break that oath,... let me turn monster:”  _Yuri remembers Phichit means so much to him and continues more sincerely, _“therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry.”_

Phichit senses the change and says affectionately,

“ _From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love?”_

Yuri frowns, then sticks out his tongue in revulsion. Phichit nods in understanding. Yuri lectures back,

“ _Marry, I pray, do make sport withal:”_ Yuri peers into Phichit eyes. _“but... **love no man in good earnest**... nor no further in sport neither than with safety of a pure blush you may in honor come off again.”_

 

Phichit nods, believing Yuri is warning him. But about who? Maybe Chris made a pass at Yuri last night. Is Chris trying out lots of guys out of curiosity? That would make sense. It's not like Chris thinks Phichit is special…

 

François paces nervously, then walks on stage for his first entrance as Touchstone. Yuri is jesting with Phichit,

“ _... for always the dullness of the **fool** is the whetstone of the wits.” _Yuri greets François, _“How now, wit! Whither wander you?”_

François begins his scene well,

“ _Mistress, you must come away to your father.”_

He banters easily, til he declares,

_“ _The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.”__

François sees his wife stand up in the audience, glaring. Lise calls out from Hamlet,

“ _If you need marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what MONSTERS you make of them.”_

François, upset and embarrassed to be interrupted during the play, insults her from The Comedy of Errors,

“ _Dissembling harlot, you are false in all!!”_

Lise screams back A Midsummer Night’s Dream,

“ _I AM SICK WHEN I DO LOOK ON THEE!”_

The audience watches confused. Phichit is livid at these lines from other plays. He pokes Yuri, and Yuri begins his next line,

“ _By my troth...”_ then blanks out on the rest, stressed out by the heckling from Lise. Irritated, Phichit yells it for him,

“ _By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little wit that fools have was SILENCED,”_ Phichit glares at Lise, _“the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.”_

Phichit remembers the actor playing Monsieur Le Beau isn’t coming. He improvises,

“He would _tell us the manner of the wrestling_. But he leaveth... before he talketh.”

Victor on the sidelines turns pale, and covers his eyes. François squares his shoulders, and says one of his lines at random,

“ _It is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.”_

Lise tosses a key at François, picks up a suitcase, and marches off _._ She gets on the back of a motorcycle with the bag in between her and a large leather clad guy. They drive off in a cloud of dust. François stands stunned, then goes offstage and tells Victor,

“I... I need to catch my wife. The show must go on without me.”

Victor watches François scurry away, then places his hand on his forehead and groans.

 

On stage Yuri says,

“ _Yonder sure they are coming. Let us now stay and see it.”_

He looks over, waiting for Mike to make his entrance. Yuri repeats,

“ _Yonder sure they are coming. Let us now stay and see it.”_

Victor frowns, turns to see Mike finally walk up, pulled by Sara.

“Mike, why are you late...” berates Victor.

“Just leave me alone!” barks Mike. Victor backs away stunned, wondering why everyone suddenly hates him.

“ _Yonder sure they are coming. Let us now stay and see it,”_ repeats Yuri, not knowing what else to do.

Someone from the crowd heckles,

“Better come soon, I’m not getting any younger!”

“I don’t see it, so I won’t stay!” shouts someone else.

Mike goes onstage, and growls fiercely towards the audience,

“ _Come on. Since the youth will not be entreated... his own_ _ **peril**_ _on his forwardness._ ”

 

Meanwhile, Phichit stands stage right, still obsessing over Chris. Should he ask Chris if he likes Yuri? Does it matter? Chris is single and... Yuri doesn’t like guys. Then Orlando wrestles Charles, so Chris takes off his shirt, and grapples an oiled bare chested Chuck. Phichit admires Chris’s torso, then pretends to stare as Rosalind, exaggerating his longing looks comically. Next to him, Mike also stares at the two men with stunned fascination. Phichit pokes Mike with a knowing glance, to which Mike turns away, ashamed at his interest.

 

Next Phichit gives Chris his necklace, a big silver chain.

“ _Gentleman_ ,” Phichit reaches over Chris’s head with the necklace. “ _Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, that could give more, but that her hand lacks means.”_

Phichit at first avoids looking at Chris’s face, feeling another clenching in his chest. Then he looks into Chris’s, no, Orlando’s eyes. I’m Rosalind. And Orlando is… tall, good-looking, and… Phichit feels a prickling sensation in the back of his neck... as if, he’s standing there… naked. He feels vulnerable, and he stares at Chris like he’s never seen him before... Phichit gulps. I’m Rosalind. He’s Orlando. Eventually, Phichit regains his composure.

“ _Shall we go, coz_?” splutters Phichit, turning away and stumbling to the edge of the stage.

“ _Aye. Fare you well, fair gentleman_ ,” responds Yuri, frowning at Phichit’s behavior. Chris stands there frozen. Phichit looks back, worried Chris has forgotten his line. But Chris shakes himself, then recites,

“ _Can’t I say thank you? My better parts are all thrown down, and... that which here stands is but a lifeless block._ ”

Phichit, still bewildered, says to Yuri slowly,

“ _He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes; I’ll ask him what he would...”_

Phichit walks back and says to Chris,

“ _Did you call, sir? Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown more than your enemies_.”

Phichit stands there, wishing Chris would… smile at him. Chris’s face is blank.

“ _Will you go? Coz!_ ” harps Yuri, sounding annoyed. “COUSIN!”

“ _Have with you. Fare you well_ ,” adds Phichit, caressing Chris’s face, but Chris flinches at the touch. Yuri grabs Phichit’s arm, and drags him offstage. Chris spews out his next line very quickly,

“ _What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I can’t speak to her, yet she urged conference. O poor Orlando, you’re overthrown! Charles – or something weaker – masters me._ ”

The audience is mesmerized for a moment, then applauds. Victor, watching from the sidelines, applauds as well, pleasantly surprised. Victor grins widely towards Phichit, which Yuri notices enviously. Yuri decides to harness his jealous energy, and prepares for his next scene.

 

“ACT I, SCENE III. A room in the Duke’s palace,” announces Bret. Yuri cries sarcastically to Phichit,

“ _Why, cousin! Why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! Not a word?”_

“ _Not one to throw at a dog,”_ complains Phichit. Yuri responds,

“ _No, your words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.”_

Yuri banters with Phichit. Then Yuri says about Orlando,

“ _By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando...”_

Phichit rolls his eyes, who could hate Orlando when he looks like Chris... Phichit says reluctantly,

“ _No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.”_

Yuri asks surprised,

“ _Why should I not? Does he not deserve well?_ ”

Phichit responds,

_Let me love him for that, and do you love him… because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.”_

Yuri backs away, seeing Mike storm on stage again. Yuri says with alarm,

“ _With his eyes full of anger...”_

“ _Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste, and get you from court!!”_ roars Mike, afraid Phichit is spreading rumors about Mike being gay. Phichit backs up and squeaks,

“ _Me, uncle?”_

Mike points at him coldly,

“ _You, cousin! Within these ten days if that you’re found so near our public court as twenty miles, you **die** for it.”_

 

Rosalind and Celia plan their escape to the forest of Arden. Yuri asks dubiously,

“ _What shall I call thee when you are a man?”_

Phichit responds with a knowing smile,

“ _I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page; and therefore look you call me Ganymede. But what will you be called?_ ”

Yuri replies,

“ _Something that has a reference to my state... no longer Celia, but Aliena._ ”

Alienation, that’s what the name brings to mind. Yuri feels depressed. Are Victor and Phichit now dating? Yuri is not sure he can cope with that... Strange, his acting has improved, and he hasn’t felt nervous at all.

 

Victor watches Yuri’s performance and feels pleased. For once, Yuri is matching Phichit’s energy, and is at ease with the words. Perhaps Yuri is being standoffish because he needs to completely focus on the play.

 

At the end of the first act, Victor says helplessly to the others,

“François isn’t returning. How do we continue? Four main actors have left... I’ve already cut out so many scenes…”

Yuri thinks out loud,

“Phichit could easily play Touchstone, but Touchstone reappears in Act 2, scene 4 _with_ Rosalind...”

Phichit interrupts,

“Victor can do it. Oliver has no lines til act 4, scene 3. Just cut the scenes of Touchstone with Audrey, since we have no Audrey. ”

“But the finale has both Oliver and Touchstone!” argues Victor.

“Oliver has no lines, just a kiss. Change into Touchstone’s costume after act 5, scene 2, say the fool’s lines, and leave Celia by herself.”

Yuri opens his mouth to protest, then figures Phichit doesn’t want Oliver to kiss Celia in the wedding scene.

 

 


	16. Into The Woods

“ACT II, SCENE I: The Forest of Arden! The deposed Duke... is alone...” announces Bret with a tremble in his voice, uneasy about another cast reduction. Mike, as the old Duke, puts on a gray wig. He goes on stage and sees no other actors to interact with... He goes over to the nearest tree and talks to it, giving it a friendly pat,

“ _Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, has not old custom made this life more sweet than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods more free from peril than the envious court?”_

Mike says a few more lines to himself, then quickly leaves the stage and changes to the Duke Frederick’s outfit.

 

“ACT II, SCENE II. A room in the palace,” announces Bret, “The Duke blames Orlando for running off with his daughter and niece…” escaping quickly to avoid Mike. As Duke Frederick, Mike struts on stage and says furiously to imaginary servants,

“ _Send to his brother. Fetch that gallant hither! If he be absent, bring his brother to me. I’ll **make** him find him. Do this suddenly, and let not search and inquisition quail to bring again these foolish runaways!”_

 

“ACT II, SCENE III. Before Oliver’s house,” announces Bret. Chris comes on stage and looks around for old Adam, forgetting that actor never arrived. Victor shakes his head vehemently from the side, waving his hands to say cut. Chris hurries off stage. Bret searches for the next scene, saying,

“After Oliver’s house!”

 

“ACT II, SCENE IV. The forest,” announces Bret, stunned at how different Victor looks as Touchstone, wearing extra padding and a parti-colored hat. Phichit, now dressed as a boy, walks slowly, dragging his feet. He sighs,

“ _O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!”_

Victor loads Yuri on his back, surprising Yuri and ignoring his protests. Victor stumbles on stage, crying,

“ _I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.”_

Phichit complains,

“ _I could find in my heart to disgrace my man’s apparel,”_ Phichit gives a disgusted look at his trousers, _“and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore courage, good Aliena!”_

Yuri whines from Victor’s back,

“ _I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further...”_

The audience laughs. Victor responds with a groan,

“ _For my part, I had rather bear with you than **bear** you; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you, for I think you have no money in your purse.”_

 

Afterward the scene, Victor grabs Bret as he leaves the stage, deciding,

“Cut scene 5 and... 6.”

 

“ACT II, SCENE VII. The forest, again! The old Duke is hanging out,” announces Bret, laying out a picnic blanket. Then he opens a bucket of fast food chicken, and sets several pieces on a plate. Mike as the old Duke, and Sara as Jaques, sit together, the rest of the court actors gone. Mike skips ahead in the dialogue and exclaims,

“ _Why, how now, monsieur! What a life is this, that your poor friends must woo your company? What,_ _you look merrily!”_

Sara stands up, dances around, and cries out,

“ _A fool, a fool! I met a fool in the forest, a motley fool; a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a_ _fool...”_

 

Chris enters, with a wooden sword drawn, he threatens Mike and Sara,

“ _Forbear, and eat no more!”_

Sara replies puzzled, pointing to the chicken,

“ _Why, I have eat none yet.”_

Chris continues,

“ _Nor shall not, till necessity be served.”_

Sara picks up a chicken leg and asks,

“ _Of what kind should this **cock** come of?”_

Mike says gently,

“ _Are you thus boldened, man, by thy distress, or else a rude despiser of good manners, that in civility_ y _ou seemed so empty?”_

Chris takes a deep breath, and hangs his head in embarrassment,

“ _You touched my vein at first: the thorny point of bare distress has taken from me the show of civility...”_ Then he points the sword at Sara. _“But I say: He **dies** that touches any of this fruit... till I and my affairs are answered.”_

Sara says saucily,

“ _An you will not be answered with reason, I must die.”_

Mike continues calmly,

“ _What would you have? Your gentleness shall force more than your force move us to gentleness.”_

Chris grunts desperately,

“ _I almost die for food; and let me have IT!!”_

Mike offers Chris a piece of chicken,

“ _Sit down and feed, and welcome to our ‘table’.”_

Chris realizes that in his jumbled emotional state, he missed breakfast. He grabs a chicken leg and takes a big bite.

 

Then Sara begins Jaques’s soliloquy,

“ _All the world’s a stage... and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, a_ _nd one man in his time plays many parts_ _, his acts being seven ages.”_ Sara goes on, but looks intensely at Mike during her last line, _“Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything..._ _”_

Sara taps Mike’s gray wig as the older Duke.

“Just be yourself,” whispers Sara, “life is short.”

Mike shakes his head, appalled.

 

“ACT III, SCENE I. A room in the palace,” announces Bret. “The Duke is pissed. He still can’t find Celia or Rosalind, so he threatens Oliver to find his brother Orlando.”

Mike as Duke Frederick looks away from Victor dressed as Oliver. He orders angrily,

 _“_ _… _Find out thy brother, wheresoever he is; seek him with candle; bring him,__ __**dead or living** _ _ __, within this twelvemonth or turn you no more to seek the living in our territory. Thy lands and all things that you do call thine worth seizure, do we seize into our hands till you can’t quit thee by thy... brother’s mouth...”_ _ _Mike glances at Victor’s mouth. “_ __on what we think against thee.”_ _

Victor edges close to Mike, oozing a kind of evil sensuality, and says near his ear,

_“ _Oh, that your highness knew my heart is this: I never loved my brother in my life.”__

Mike mirrors Victor’s tone, and runs his hand up Victor’s arm,

_“ _More villain thou. – Well, push out doors and let my officers of such a nature make an extent upon his house and plans. Do this expediently, and turn him going.”__

Victor nods, then Mike leans over, and kisses Victor. Mike panics at his action, and quickly en exits stage left. Victor freezes for a moment, then exits as well.

 

Bret frowns at his script, and exclaims loudly, “I guess Duke Frederick is gay!” Mike hears and bolts from the stage area. Sara runs after him. Bret continues,

“ACT III, SCENE II. Back in the forest, Orlando writes love poems about Rosalind,” announces Bret. Off to the side, Chris posts papers on several trees, declaring,

“ _Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love ...”_

Chris glances at Phichit, then looks away quickly. Phichit tears off a paper, Victor, in his Touchstone outfit, does the same. Victor dances around, reciting Orlando’s poems,

“ _For a taste:_

_If a hart do lack a hind, let him seek out Rosalind..._

_If the cat will after kind, so be sure will Rosalind!_

_Winter garments must be lined, so must slender Rosalind._   
_They that reap must sheaf and bind; then to cart with Rosalind._   
_Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, such a nut is Rosalind._   
_He that sweetest rose will find, must find love’s **prick** and Rosalind...”_

Victor grimaces in distaste at the paper. He tells Phichit,

“ _This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you infect yourself with them?”_

 

Phichit looks down, and reads the actual words Chris has scribbled on the paper:

  If you see a hot behind, you can bet it’s Rosalind’s.

  There’s one butt I’d like to grind, it belongs to Rosalind.

  Your wet lips just blow my mind, suck me please, sweet Rosalind!

 

Phichit smiles, touched by the bad verses. He gazes at Chris’s paper, and retorts to Victor,

“ _Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree_.”

“ _Truly, the tree yields bad fruit,”_ replies Victor, holding his nose. Phichit folds the paper and tucks it in his sleeve.

 

Sara has been observing Chris. He is still... interested in Phichit. Chris is usually even tempered, but has been more emotional today than she’s ever seen. Feeling desperate, she walks over to Chris and puts his hands on her breasts.

“You love boobs! Feel what you’d be missing,” she tells him. Chris smiles ruefully, admitting,

“So the person I love is flat chested, it’s not important...”

Sara looks up like she’s been slapped.

“Love...?” she gasps.

 

Phichit banters with Yuri, then catches sight of Chris with his hands on Sara’s chest. He shrieks dramatically about Orlando,

“ _O, ominous! He comes to kill my heart!”_

Phichit grabs his chest in frustration. Yuri shakes his head, saying,

“ _I would sing my song without a burden: you bring me out of tune.”_

Phichit protests,

“ _Do you not know I am a... **woman**? When I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on.”_

Yuri nods.

“ _You bring me out.”_ He suddenly looks left. _“Soft! Comes he not here?”_

Chris wanders on stage, as Phichit and Yuri exit.

 

Sara follows Chris on stage and says to Chris discouraged, looking over at Phichit,

“ _Rosalind... is your love’s name?”_

Chris as Orlando replies reluctantly,

“ _Yes, just.”_

Sara says honestly, but without anger,

“ _I do not like her name,”_

Chris, unsure of her mood, replies evenly,

“ _There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.”_

Sara continues,

“ _What stature is she of?”_

Chris motions to his chest,

“ _Just as high as my heart.”_

Sara sighs in frustration, wondering why Chris never loved her and why she can’t let him go... They say a few more lines, then she accuses him,

“ _The worst fault you have is to be in loooove.”_

Chris replies tiredly,

“ _Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I’m weary of you.”_

Sara snipes back,

“ _By my troth, I was seeking for a fool – when I found **you**!”_

Chris points over to the side,

“ _He’s drowned in the brook: look but in, and you shall see him.”_

Sara shakes her head sadly,

“ _There I shall see mine own figure.”_

Chris shrugs and says,

“ _Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.”_

Sara says wistfully while leaving,

“ _I’ll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good Signior Love.”_

Chris replies earnestly,

“ _I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy.”_

Chris lets out a sigh a relief, sensing Sara is finally accepting their relationship has ended.

 

In the next part, Yuri waits off stage, distracted. Phichit is complaining about Orlando,

“ _A lean cheek, which you have not, a blue eye and sunken, which you have not, an unquestionable  
spirit...”_

Yuri isn’t really listening. Mike kissed Victor. Why? They didn’t rehearse it that way. Does Victor kiss everyone? Yuri’s spirits plunge even lower.

“… _you are rather point-device in your accoutrements as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other!”_ finishes Phichit.

 

Meanwhile, Phichit notices Chris has hit a rhythm, and for once, Chris’s lines are coming out effortlessly.

“ _Fair youth, I wish I could make you believe I love,_ ” Chris begs Phichit on his knees. Love? Chris knows nothing about love. Phichit walks over irritated, and bonks Chris hard on the head.

“Ouch!” exclaims Chris, rubbing his head in astonishment. Phichit chastises him,

“ _Me believe it! You may as soon make **her that you love** believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to ...confess she does: that is one of the points in which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so ...admired?”_

Chris gets up and takes Phichit’s hand, declaring with the other hand on his heart,

“ _I swear to you, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind,_ ” Chris looks down at Phichit’s hand muttering, _“I am that he, that_ _ **unfortunate**_ _he._ ”

Phichit whips back his hand, hiding it behind his back. He feels emotional, more wild, out of control.

“ _But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?”_ rails Phichit, pacing back and forth. Chris grabs a piece of paper, and scribbles on it, then says,

“ _Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much,”_ replies Chris, giving Phichit an intense look. Phichit rants,

“ _Love is merely a_ _ **madness**_ _! And, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers... are in love too.”_ Phichit pauses. _“Yet I profess curing it by counsel.”_

“ _Did you ever cure any so?”_ responds Chris, dubious. Phichit pokes him viciously.

“ _Yes, one, and in this manner,”_ Phichit responds, then waits. Chris watches him so intently, he feels like he’s being devoured.

“ _He was to imagine me his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo me:”_

Phichit walks away, trying to get some room. Chris is making him nervous.

“ _...at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate,”_

Chris follows him.

“ _...changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles,”_

Phichit walks away faster.

“ _...for every passion something and for no passion truly any thing, as boys and women,”_

Chris circles around the other way, Phichit blabbers much too quickly,

“ _...are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drove my suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured him;”_ Phichit takes a deep breath and says more slowly, _“...and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep’s heart...”_

Someone backstage bleats,

“Baaa!”

Phichit continues,

“ _that there shall not be one spot of love in it.”_

Phichit runs straight into Chris’s chest, flailing comically and blushing. Chris growls angrily,

“ _I would not be cured, youth.”_

Phichit nods, and backs away sadly.

 

On the sidelines, Victor peruses the script, then hands it back to Bret, deciding,

“Cut scene 3. Too much Audrey in it...”

Bret nods, motions to Phichit and Yuri to go on stage.

 

“ACT III, SCENE IV. Still in the forest! Orlando has stood up Ganymede, aka Rosalind,” announces Bret. Phichit walks out and collapses on the ground, and pleads,

“ _Never talk to me; I will weep!”_

Phichit feels confused and emotional after the discordant scene with Chris. Yuri angrily replies,

“ _Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a **man**.”_

“ _But have I not cause to weep?_ ” whines Phichit.

“ _As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep,”_ agrees Yuri dismissively.

“ _His very hair is of the dissembling colour,”_ Phichit complains, tugging his hair. Stupid Chris. Chris probably gave Yuri a baked potato. They snipe back and forth til Phichit wails,

“ _But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?”_

“ _Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him,”_ insists Yuri agreeably.

 

Once offstage, Phichit chastises himself. What does is matter if Chris chases everything that moves? They can still be friends... Phichit tries several times to talk to Chris, who walks away. Victor tries to talk to Yuri, but Yuri walks away. Mike walks away and Sara grabs on to Mike’s arm, afraid he’ll run off again. Bret observes them all, throwing up his arms in exasperation.

 

Phichit gives up on Chris, and pulls Yuri aside.

“I’m...” starts Phichit, not finding the words to describe his emotional state.

“Phichit, are you feeling okay?” queries Yuri, concerned.

“I’m... _neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well; but civil count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion,_ ” confesses Phichit, wondering why he cares.

“Oh, I see,” responds Yuri, wondering how much Phichit knows about him and Victor.

“You’re hiding things from me,” reprimands Phichit, thinking of Yuri and Chris.

“Oh. Okay, yes, we should talk soon,” agrees Yuri. Bret approaches Phichit, and entreats,

“Hey, Phichit… can I borrow your makeup again?”

“Aye, if it’s not going on that stuffed ruminant,” retorts Phichit, pointing to the sheep.

“It’s... for me. Can you make me pretty? Well... pretty-er... rumor has it Sara likes men who dress as women... and I get tongue tied when she’s around...”

Phichit nods.

“I’ll do my utmost. But... ” Phichit picks up a stray paper, “… maybe write to her?”

 

Meanwhile, Aaron puts on his costume to play the shepherd Silvius. Next to his bag, he finds _Wool Sheepspeare wearing a bridal veil and a G-string. Someone has even put a mini white cake next to the stuffed animal. Aaron laughs, and pops the cake in his mouth. A tingling sensation invades his mouth, he starts to cough._

 

Victor searches for Aaron, who should be ready for the next scene. He finds him sitting in a corner with a rash around his mouth.

“Allergic reaction... dunno... never before...” whispers Aaron hoarsely. “I’m fine...”

Victor reacts to the latest news with a defeated shrug,

“I can barely hear you... Is this some awful joke? Why do I keep losing my actors?” Victor motions to Sara. “Sara, put on a different hat, be Silvius...”

“What? Oh... fine... I can manage I guess...” she accepts reluctantly.

 

“ACT III, SCENE V. Another part of the forest, a pretty shepherd girl Phoebe,” Bret points to himself, “is being pursued by Silvius, a shepherd,” announces Bret, then puts down the pages to do his role. Sara picks up the pages and reads,

“ _Sweet Phoebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phoebe; aye that you love me not, but say not so in bitterness...”_

Bret is so entranced by Sara, he doesn’t register any more.

“ _I would not be your executioner..._ ” Bret begins and forgets the rest. Sara waits for a second, then continues,

“ _O dear Phoebe, if ever – as that ever may be near – you meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, then shall you know the wounds invisible that love’s keen arrows make._ ”

“ _But ... I shall not pity you,_ ” leadenly says Bret, again omitting most of his lines. Victor cringes. Phichit rants for a while and ends with,

“ _...So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well._ ”

Then Bret says adoringly to Sara, instead of Phichit,

“ _Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together: I had rather hear you chide than this_ _man_ _woo,”_ pointing at Phichit. Phichit rolls his eyes, and says to Sara as well,

“ _He’s fallen in love with your **foulness** and she’ll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I’ll sauce her with bitter words.” _Sara glares at Phichit, so Phichit glares back at Sara _, “Why look you so upon me?”_

Victor holds his head in embarrassment. He hears an audience member complain,

“Why are the dudes dressed as girls, and that girl dressed as a boy? This play sucks!!”

 

“ACT IV, SCENE I. The... forest?” says Bret a little uncertain, still staring at Sara. He stands in the middle of the stage til Sara pushes him off, still gaping at her. Phichit watches the lovesick Bret with annoyance. All the straight guys have a crush on Sara. She has even features, with perfect skin and lustrous dark hair tucked in a cap. Sara as Jaques says to Phichit ,

“ _I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee,_ ” turning her back on him. Phichit remarks behind her,

“ _They say you are a melancholy fellow.”_

Sara nods and agrees,

“ _I am so; I do love it better than laughing..._ ”

Phichit tells her,

“ _Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows and betray themselves to every modern  
censure... worse than drunkards.”_

Sara sits down and whispers loudly,

“ _Why, ‘tis good to be sad and say nothing.”_

“ _Why then, ‘tis good to be a post!”_ retorts Phichit. Chris might be experimenting with guys, but he’ll probably return soon to his gorgeous ex-girlfriend.

 

Phichit meets Chris onstage, and says in a vexed tone,

“ _Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humour and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very, very Rosalind?”_

Chris pulls Phichit closer and replies angrily,

“ _I would kiss before I speak.”_

Phichit answers, backing up,

“ _Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take_  
occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking – God  
warn us! – matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.”

Chris gets close to Phichit and again, and demands,

“ _How if the kiss be denied?”_

Phichit snipes,

“ _Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.”_

 

Phichit stomps off stage. Victor notices the acrimony and whispers incredulously,

“Are they having a quarrel too...?”

Bret hands Phichit a note, motioning to Sara. Then Victor tells Bret,

“Cut scene two.”

Sara overhears, and looks annoyed at losing another Jaques scene. Phichit throws Bret's love note in her direction, then goes back onstage.

 

“ACT IV, SCENE III. Yay forest!” cheers Bret. “Ganymede and Aliena, wait for Orlando.” Phichit taps his foot on stage. He looks behind a few trees, then complains,

“ _How say you now? Is it not past two o’clock? And here much, Orlando!_ ”

Yuri puts down Orlando saying,

“ _I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he has taken his bow and arrows and is gone forth to sleep. Look, who comes here.”_

Sara comes forward as Silvius, holding the script. She hands Bret’s note to Phichit, like it’s a disgusting tissue, then reads,

“ _My errand is to you, fair youth; My gentle Phoebe bid me give you this: I know not the contents; but, as I guess by the stern brow and waspish action which she did use as she was writing of it, it bears an angry tenor: pardon me: I am but as a...”_ Sara turns to the audience apologetically, _“guiltless messenger.”_

Phichit glances at Bret’s love note, then notices it says:

  If you see a hot behind...

“Oops, Sara received Chris’s poem by mistake,” Phichit murmurs.

 

Then Victor, now dressed as Oliver, walks forward with a white handkerchief with a big red patch to represent blood. He calls out,

“ _Orlando does commend him to you both, and to that youth he calls his ‘Rosalind’ … he sends this bloody napkin. Are you... he?”_ asks Victor dubiously. Then Phichit responds,

“ _I am: what must we understand by this?”_

Victor responds with a tremor in his voice,

“ _Some of my shame; if you will know of me what man I am... and how, and why, and where this handkercher was stained...”_

Yuri barely glances at the handkerchief, and snipes at Victor,

“ _I pray you tell it.”_

Victor frowns, but paces back and forth,

“ _When last the young Orlando parted from you, he left a promise to return again within an hour, and pacing through the forest, chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, lo, what befell! He threw his eye aside, and mark what object did present itself:_

_Under an oak, whose boughs were mossed with age and high top bald with dry antiquity,”_

Victor pats his hair sadly, and pulls Yuri over to lie underneath a tree. Yuri lays down reluctantly.

“ _...a wretched ragged man, overgrown with hair, lay sleeping on his back: about his neck a green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, who with her head nimble in threats approached the opening of his mouth;”_

Victor coils his arm around Yuri’s neck his hand imitating a snake’s movement. For a moment, their lips are almost touching. Yuri tenses. Victor stops. He bounces back and exclaims,

“– _but suddenly, seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself, and with indented glides did slip away into a bush: under which bush’s shade a lioness, with udders all drawn dry, lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,“_

Victor draws his hands like a prowling animal, creeping up again to Yuri’s left,  
“ _When that the sleeping man should stir; (for ‘tis the royal disposition of that beast to prey on nothing that does seem as dead):  
This seen, Orlando did approach the man and found it was his brother, his elder brother.”_

Yuri turns towards Victor, and Victor kisses him. Enraged, Yuri slaps him, then rails,

“ _Oh! I have heard him speak of that same brother; and he did render him the most **unnatural** that lived amongst men!”_

Victor, shocked, still puts out his hand to help Yuri stand back up. But Yuri disregards it, standing up by himself. Victor continues,

_“ _And well he might so do, for well I know he was unnatural.”__

_Phichit, astonished, demands,_

_“ _But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, food to the sucked and hungry lioness?”__

But Yuri sees that one of his nails grazed Victor’s cheek, causing a line of blood. Yuri grabs the handkerchief, and dabs Victor’s cheek. Victor notices actual blood is staining the white of the handkerchief. In his shock, he skips ahead in the dialogue and blurts out,

“ _Give this napkin dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth that he does call his Rosalind!_ ” shrieks Victor, avoiding looking at the cloth, and shoving it towards Phichit. Phichit steps back in mock horror, pretends to swoon, and falls to the ground. Yuri says a bit exasperated,

“ _Why, how now, Ganymede... sweet Ganymede..._ ”

Then Victor collapses, dropping the handkerchief. Yuri looks at both guys on the ground. He turns from Phichit to Victor, then back to Phichit, unsure what to do. The audience laughs. From the ground, Phichit raises his head a little, and says Oliver’s line,

“ _Many will swoon when they do look on blood.”_

Yuri puts his hand on Victor’s forehead and says Aliena’s line to Phichit,

“ _There is more in it, Cousin Ganymede!”_

Phichit once again says Oliver’s line,

“ _Look, he recovers.”_ Then adds towards the audience, “ _I would I were at home._ ”

Several people laugh. Yuri says his next line to Phichit instead of Victor,

“ _We’ll lead you thither. I pray you, will you take him by the arm?_ ”

Victor groggily says to Phichit,

“ _Be of good cheer, youth: you a man... you lack... a man’s heart._ ”

Phichit rolls his eyes, then he helps Yuri carry Victor offstage.

 

Offstage, Yuri dabs Victor’s cheek apologetically, saying,

“I’m sorry I hurt you, after all, it was my fault... I fixed you up with him…”

“Is this about Phichit? You insisted I have dinner with him…” defends Victor.

“I know. But I wasn’t expecting you to have sex with him,” admits Yuri, sounding discouraged.

“Sex? I didn’t… We didn’t… What happened with you was unusual… What makes you think…?”

“Phichit said he was up late with an ‘ _electrical connection’_ …”

“Literally! The inn lost power, he rewired… a box or something?” explains Victor. Yuri hides his face in his palms.

“I’m an idiot. I was jealous of the two of you...”

Victor sighs in understanding, then adds,

“Ah. Maybe that’s why Christophe is angry.”

“Oh?” responds Yuri. He figures Chris is jealous of Victor with Phichit, and still wants Victor.

 

Victor leaves Yuri, and takes Christophe aside. He follows his hunch.

“I never touched Phichit, not last night, not ever,” declares Victor solemnly. Chris recoils, then takes a deep breath. Chris nods, then grabs Victor and kisses him.

“Thanks for turning me on to men!” exclaims Chris. Victor throws his hands in the air. Everyone hates him, but he keeps being kissed. The worst part is... Yuri is watching and looks upset again.

 

Yuri hugs himself, now wondering what's between Victor and Chris. Is Victor a playboy? Maybe Yuri shouldn’t have had sex with him right away… Victor comes next to him, and earnestly whispers,

“I don’t want Christophe, please... His kisses never were as magical as yours...”

“You’ve kissed before today...?” questions Yuri, as Victor winces, and tries to explain,

“Just once, he visited my inn one night...” as Yuri listens, biting his lip.

 

Meanwhile Phichit sees Chris kiss Victor. He figures Victor has forgiven Chris the deception, and asked Chris out. That should be fine... Phichit doesn’t want Victor anymore, there’s no chemistry. Phichit’s gut twists again, then Sara demands irately,

“Phichit, what’s going on?” She points at Yuri and Victor talking intensely in a corner. “There’s more drama backstage than on stage!”

“I know not. Does Chris put the moves on everyone, or does he have... standards?”

She sighs, and replies,

“He acts likes he’s chill and sleeps around, but actually he’s picky. And he’s caring... a total sweetheart.”

Phichit nods, then admits,

“Sorry about the note, that was Chris’s note to me, not Bret’s...”

Sara looks appalled, and croaks,

“To you? He wrote _you_ that crappy dirty poem?”

Phichit shrugs and explains,

“He likes to rile me...”

“Chris never writes, not even birthday cards! And he wants you? He refused me that one night, and I was doing his favorite thing!! I keep trying, but it’s really over,” admits Sara, wishing she was talking to someone else besides Phichit.

“How did you try?” Phichit can’t help but ask her.

“I showed up naked. He’s lazy, and likes nudity, what can I say...” she reveals, her voice cracking. Bret overhears Sara and turns beet red. Phichit spots another paper on the ground, checks for Bret’s handwriting, then gives it to Sara. But she drops it, too upset to care.

 

Victor motions with his hands to get everyone's attention, and announces,

“Let’s finish the play, if you please...”

 

“ACT V, SCENE I. The Dark Forest of gloom where dreams go to die….” says Bret glumly, disappointed by Sara’s reaction to his note. Victor waves to Bret, making the gesture of cutting his throat. Bret frowns. “Uh... nevermind,” he mumbles and checks his script.

“ACT V, SCENE II. We’re never leaving these woods,” announces Bret. “Orlando has been mauled by a lion and tells his brother he can’t believe Oliver is in love with Aliena. Didn’t Aliena slap Oliver? ”

 

Chris strides on stage, his arm in a sling and a big red spotted bandage. He glares at Victor, and exclaims bitterly,

“ _Is it possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her? That but seeing you should love  
her? And loving woo? And wooing, she should grant? And... will you persevere to **enjoy** her?”_

Victor follows Chris, annoyed that Chris seems upset with him again. He responds as Oliver,

 _“_ _ _Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden  
wooing, nor her sudden... consenting; but say with me, I love ____**Aliena**__ _ _;”__ _insists Victor, pointing to Yuri,_ _ _“say with her that she... loves me__ _...” adds Victor dubiously, feeling his scratched cheek._ Chris shrugs and replies,

“ _You have my consent. Let your wedding be tomorrow: there will I invite the Duke and all’s contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena; for look you, here comes my... ‘Rosalind’.”_

 

Phichit comes on stage, and cordially greets Victor,

“ _God save you, brother.”_

Victor says to Phichit with a cryptic smile,

“ _And you, fair_ _ **sister,**_ _”_ then leaves. Phichit looks at Victor with a frown, then places his hand on Chris’s chest, remarking,

“ _O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf!”_

Chris replies grumpily, adjusting the sling,

“ _It is my arm.”_

Phichit wrings his hands, saying,

“ _I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.”_

Chris replies,

“ _Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a... lady.”_

Right. Phichit remembers Chris and Victor are now dating. Phichit continues,

“ _Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon when he showed me your handkerchief?”_

Chris says wryly,

“ _Aye, and greater wonders than that...”_

Phichit snaps in anger,

“ _O, I know where you are...”_

Phichit continues, turning away from Chris.

 

Chris looks away from Phichit, now discouraged. He was euphoric at hearing Phichit didn’t have sex with Victor, yet Phichit still chose Victor. Chris says sadly,

“ _They shall be married tomorrow, and I will bring the Duke to the nuptial. But how bitter a thing it_  
is to look into happiness through another man’s ...eyes! By so much more shall I tomorrow be at  
the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I think my brother happy in having what he wishes for...”

Phichit senses Chris’s low mood and tries to cheer him up,

“ _Why then, tomorrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?”_

Chris says in despair,

“ _I can live no longer by thinking.”_

Phichit grabs his hand,

“ _I will weary you then no longer with idle talking...”_

Chris doesn’t pay attention to the rest of Rosalind’s line til he feels Phichit kiss his hand. Chris frowns at the unusual action.

“ _If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her...”_

Chris feels a wave of earnest affection coming from Phichit. Does Phichit like him? Chris caresses Phichit’s hand still holding his, saying,

“ _Do you speak in sober meaning?”_

Phichit replies, all choked up,

“ _By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your  
best array: bid your friends; for if you will be married tomorrow, you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will...” _

Chris shakes his head. Phichit is such a good actor, Chris can’t tell if Phichit likes him, or if Rosalind likes him.

 

Bret as Phoebe comes on stage, followed by Sara as Silvius. Phichit remarks sarcastically,

“ _Look, here comes a lover of mine... and a lover of hers.”_

Bret complains to Phichit,

“ _Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, to show the letter that I wrote to you.”_

Phichit rolls his eyes,

“ _I care not if I have: it is my study to seem despiteful and ungentle to you: You are there followed by a faithful shepherd; look upon him, love_ _ **him**_ _; he worships you,”_ says Phichit, pointing to the stuffed sheep. Bret would have a better chance with the stuffed animal than with Sara. Bret pleads, pointing to Sara,

“ _Good shepherd, tell this youth what ‘tis to love.”_

Sara reads numbly,

“ _It is to be all made of sighs and tears; and so am I for Phoebe...”_

They slug through the rest of the lines, Victor hides behind his script, and whispers,

“We should have done Hamlet, we could all die of embarrassment at the end...”

 

As soon as Sara goes backstage, Mike begs her,

“I can’t do the elder Duke final scene after... what I did to Victor...”

“A smooch, it’s not a big deal,” argues Sara. Victor comes up behind them.

“Interesting interpretation of Duke Frederick... a closeted gay man attacking Rosalind and Orlando because of suppressed homoerotic feelings... brilliant!” compliments Victor, preparing for his last scene as Touchstone. Mike gapes at Victor, while Sara shakes her head in disbelief at Victor’s cluelessness.

 

“ACT V, SCENE 3, oh no, we cut that...” corrects Bret.

“ACT V, SCENE 4, The last one... I promise!” Bret informs the restless audience. “Everyone is supposed to get married!”

Mike, Sara, Chris, Victor and Yuri go on stage. Mike, once again sporting his gray wig, says as the old Duke,

“ _Do you believe, Orlando, that the boy can do all this that he has promised?”_

Chris shrugs impotently,

“ _I sometimes believe, and sometimes not; as those that fear they hope, and know they fear.”_

After a few more minutes of dialogue, Phichit and Yuri leave the stage.

 

Phichit and Yuri come back on stage wearing their noblewomen gowns, bridal veils, and carrying wildflowers. Victor, as Touchstone, says Hymen’s line,

“ _Then is there mirth in heaven, when earthly things made even atone together. Good Duke, receive thy daughter... Hymen from heaven brought her, yea, brought her hither, that you might join her hand with his whose heart within his bosom is.”_

Victor runs off stage. Phichit says coyly to Mike, as his father,

“ _To you I give myself, for I am yours.”_

Phichit declares tenderly to Chris, holding out his hand,

“ _To you I give myself, for I am... **yours**.”_

Mike replies frowning,

“ _If there be truth in sight, you are my... daughter?”_

Orlando realizes Ganymede is Rosalind. So Chris says with fervor,

“ _If there be truth in sight, you are_ _ **my**_ _Rosalind!_ ”

Phichit feels a rush of emotion at those words. Phichit moves forward, then back, then steps on his skirt, and tumbles forward. He’s falling for... Orlando! Chris grabs both sides of Phichit’s face and kisses him. Phichit feels Chris’s warm mouth on his, and relief floods his body, sinking into Chris’s passionate embrace. He forgets about the audience and presses against Chris, and Chris passionately kisses him back.

 

Bret watches, uncomfortable, and says loudly,

“ _If sight and shape be true, why then my love adieu!”_

Phichit continues kissing Chris. Bret shouts,

“IF SIGHT AND SHAPE BE TRUE, WHY THEN MY LOVE ADIEU!!”

Finally, Phichit breaks away, falters, then performs a curtsy. Bret purses his lips in Sara’s direction, but Sara shakes her head, then takes his hand as a peace offering. Bret grins. Victor runs back on stage as Oliver, and takes Yuri’s hand. Yuri as Celia curtsies as well, then gives Oliver a quick kiss with a shy smile. Victor recognizes the apology, and gives Yuri another kiss. They wait for Phichit to give the epilogue, but he’s still standing there, dazed. Bret comes forward and announces,

“The Epilogue!” just as the stuffed sheep hits him in the chest. Aaron sticks his red swollen tongue at Bret from the side. Bret holds up Wool Sheepspeare, and curtsies.

 

Phichit collects himself and says:

“ _It is not the fashion to see the ‘lady’ the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord  
the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, ‘tis true that a **good** play needs no epilogue;”_

Phichit’s expression clearly implies the play is not good.

“ _...yet to good wine they do use good bushes, and good plays prove the better by the help of good  
epilogues. … I’ll begin... with the women. _

_I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you:_

_and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to... women – as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates them – that between you and the women the play may please.”_ Then Phichit says saucily _,_

“ _If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me,”_ Phichit gives a wink to an attractive bearded man in front. _“...complexions that liked me and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me **farewell!** ”_

 

There is smattering of applause. The young man with a beard, very handsome, stands up and claps enthusiastically, proclaiming loudly,

“What a delightful shambles, Victor. Very abridged.” He hands Victor a bouquet of roses. “Here my love, I’ve come to take you home!”

Victor stands like a statue, flabbergasted.

“Marcus? What are you doing here?” croaks Victor. The actors and the audience all turn to watch.

“I gave you time to go gallivanting around, and cheat on me. But now our dog misses you…” laments Marcus. Yuri has gone pale. Victor looks at Marcus, then back at Yuri.

“Yuri, I need to explain something…” begins Victor.

“I don’t want to hear it,” protests Yuri, pushing him away. Marcus watches the two of them with interest.

“Yuri… I’m in love with you!” cries Victor desperately. Everyone becomes silent, as if the play is continuing. Phichit looks at Yuri, then at Chris, then at Victor. Then Phichit yells at Yuri,

“ _Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man!”_ and runs away. Marcus’s face turns sour, and viciously calls out,

“My darling Victor, did you cheat on me with a _married_ man?”

Yuri looks at Marcus horrified, and runs after Phichit. Sara jumps forward, doffs her hat shouting,

“Thank you all for watching our performance! Please spare us a few dollars if we amused you. Tip us even more, if you’d like us to improve!”

Sara sends Mike and Bret into the crowd with their hats in their hands, begging. Sara flirts with several guys in the audience to get more tips. Bret lets some kids pet the stuffed sheep.

 

Victor leaves the performance area, and retreats behind a tree. Marcus follows him.

“Victor, enough of your childish rebellion. You did your amateur production, and now it’s time to come home to London. I’m certain the director of the Royal Shakespeare Company will take you back.”

“Probably. But I’m not taking you back,” insists Victor. Marcus shakes his head with a patronizing expression and responds,

“Because you think you’re in love? I explained to you, that’s what happened to me in Australia. I was far from home, and the romantic situation got the better of me. But once you leave the woods, your little love affair will wilt and fade. I’m staying at the pathetic bed-and-breakfast nearby. Say your goodbyes, and meet me there.”

 

 


	17. Once More Into the Breeches

Chris hesitates, wondering whether to go after Phichit. Sara comes up behind him, and says,

“I’m sorry, but Phichit appears to love Yuri. And Victor loves Yuri. I was interested too... We’re all disappointed. Mike will be crushed.” Sara shrugs helplessly. “I don’t suppose you want to give me one last try?”

Chris shakes his head. Then he mumbles, discouraged,

“I thought Victor was my competition, I didn’t even consider Yuri…”

“It’s confusing when all you men chase each other,” notes Sara. “Mike and I still need a ride back to Portland. Is that too much to ask?”

“If I’m going that way, no problem. I’m just not sure… where I’m going.”

 

Chris returns to the campground, and runs into Yuri.

“Any luck in finding him?” asks Chris. Yuri shakes his head, bemoaning,

“I’ve hurt him badly. Call me if you see him.”

“Yuri...” begins Chris.

“What?”

“Um... Are you and Phichit... uh... how do you feel about him?”

“I care about him more than anyone,” Yuri replies quickly. “There’s a bond between us... I’m not sure how to describe.”

“Okay,” accepts Chris, resigned. He looks at Yuri’s noblewoman dress. “You might want to change...”

But Yuri has already left, running towards town. Chris shrugs and heads in the opposite direction.

 

Meanwhile, Victor avoids Marcus at the B&B. He walks to the tattoo parlor. He enters the _Kinky Ink,_ and looks around.

“Hey Shakespeare, want another tat?” offers a tall purple haired woman in black tank, with a grim reaper tattooed on her back. Victor unties his breeches and lowers them a bit and inquires,

“Can you… erase this tattoo?”

The woman frowns at it.

“Nope, I don’t have that kind of equipment. Why do you want to get rid of it? My work looks good, hasn’t even healed yet…”

Victor looks downtrodden. The woman nods understandingly and asks,

“Did your boyfriend dump you? That’s why you got it…”

Victor looks at her puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“Your boyfriend gave you a flower, and was lookin’ at you or somethin’... You wanted to remember that moment for ever…” she drones. She looks around her studio, and hands him a ceramic skull with a wilted white rose. Victor picks up the rose, and brings it to his nose.

 

The smell brings back the memory of Yuri handing him a rose saying,

“ _O, be some other name! What’s in a name…? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet... so Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo,_ _doff_ _thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee... take all myself.”_

Victor answered the next line,

“ _I take thee at thy word: Call me but_ _ **love,**_ _and I’ll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.”_

Victor took the rose, and asked,

“You don’t like my name?”

“I’m not allowed to like the famous Victor, so I’ll call you... Romeo.”

Yuri gave him a flirtatious smile, and Victor pulled Yuri close. He waited to see if Yuri kisses him, but Yuri backed away. They kept holding hands. Victor told him,

“ _O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?”_

“ _What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?”_ responded Yuri, pretending to be shocked.

“ _The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine,”_ replied Victor, pursing his lips.

“You’re drunk. I’m a bit drunk too. And you keep flirting with me...”

“Your hand fits mine like it belongs...”

“Good night, Romeo. Go to bed.”

Yuri walked away, gazing at him with a such a glow... Victor grabs his phone and calls Yuri. When he gets no answer, he goes to search for him.

 

Phichit walks aimlessly. So many emotions are crowding his brain, he feels like a jumbled, honking traffic jam. Yuri... cute, mysterious, and always following him... had ensnared Victor? Phichit feels betrayed, and possessive. Yuri belongs to him... always had belonged to him. Victor can’t have him. Phichit trips on the hem of his dress, suddenly noticing the glances and finger pointing his Elizabethan outfit is getting. He straightens his lace headdress, and curtsies towards the onlookers.

“I’ve just been married... I’m Lady Rosalind de Boys, don’t mess with me!” he yells. The play is over, he’ll have to say goodbye to Orlando... and to Chris. His gut twists again, a different feeling than the one for Yuri. Yuri, Victor, Chris... too many emotions are churning inside him...

 

A few hours later, Victor, Yuri and Chris are exhausted from searching. They have been circling around town, missing each other. Tired, Victor heads to the pub, when he sees movement down an alley. Victor texts Yuri and Chris:

– _Phichit fight gas station HURRY!!_

Yuri and Chris arrive running. About 30 guys are fighting against Phichit. Victor paces nearby, too horrified to watch. Yuri takes one look at the uneven odds, and frantically enters the fray. Victor sees Yuri in danger, then grabs a broken mop, and waves it around like a saber. He resembles a drunk musketeer. Chris also enters the melee and fights his way towards Phichit.

 

Phichit spins an attacker off to his left, enjoying the whirling movements that send his attackers in all directions. Luckily, the spiraling movements work well with a skirt, and Phichit wishes he could see his costume in action. Then he catches sight of Chris. Surprised, he watches Chris take down several guys, quick and dirty. Chris is an expert fighter... he has a gray belt? He meant an old black belt that’s been washed a lot! Phichit feels pain as something hits his head, and he falls to his knees.

“ _When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won_ _,”_ quotes Phichit, and everything goes dark. A siren pierces the quiet town. The colored lights of a sheriff’s car appear, most assailants limp and stumble away as fast as they can.

 

At the hospital, Yuri finds himself on a gurney with Victor standing next to him.

“Is Phichit okay?” wails Yuri, “I must see him.”

Victor responds softly,

“The doctor said he’s badly bruised, and has a gash on his head. The bridal veil cushioned the blow. How is your hand?”

“My wrist has a torn ligament, it will heal in time... like my feelings.”

Victor sighs, then explains,

“Yuri... Marcus was my boyfriend for the last five years. He cheated on me several times, and I always took him back. Last month, I told him to move out permanently, then I came to Oregon to forget about him. I’m not taking him back this time.”

“You weren’t cheating on him?” questions Yuri, in a quiet voice.

“No. I swear. I left _my_ dog with my aunt, not with Marcus.”

 

“I must see him,” repeats Yuri. Victor hesitates, then opens up the curtain next to him, revealing Phichit lying unconscious with a bandaged head, and covered with bruises. There’s blood splatter on Phichit’s dress.

“Phichit? Wake up… say something,” pleads Yuri.

“Yuri…” murmurs Phichit, opening one eye, “Victor is fainting…”

Yuri turns and catches a pale and shaky Victor in his arms.

“What’s wrong with Victor? He doesn’t seem injured…” cries Yuri, wincing at the pressure on his wrist.

“Victor can’t stand the sight of blood,” replies Phichit. Yuri nods, suddenly understanding the earlier scene during the play, and remembers,

“Like when I scratched him...”

Phichit palpates his head to discover a bandage. He closes his eyes, wincing in pain. Victor covers his eyes, regaining consciousness.

“Victor, go to the waiting room, we’re fine,” orders Yuri.

“I’m not going anywhere, Yuri. I’m not letting my… sensitivity keep me from your side,” responds Victor stubbornly, but keeps his eyes closed.

“You lied to me,” Phichit accuses Yuri.

“Yes. I didn’t want to hurt you… Forgive me! I shouldn’t have let my attraction to Victor get in the way of our friendship. I’ll never see him again,” declares Yuri firmly. Phichit grimaces. Victor sits helplessly on the edge of the bed, and takes Yuri’s other hand.

“Yuri… No! We should date, then maybe… in a year or so, move in together. Hopefully, you’ll fall in love with me… Supposedly it’s easy, I’m attractive, successful, and kind…”

“Victor… it was just a one night stand…” protests Yuri, keeping his eyes on Phichit.

“Wait! You had sex?!” exclaims Phichit. “Gay sex? Are you gay? You never told me you’re gay!”

Phichit wags his finger at Yuri. Yuri feels relief at the spirited response.

“Phichit, we’re best friends. We’ve grown up together, gone to the same school. We live in your father’s garage, and we work in my mom’s restaurant. If I had told you my sexual orientation, you would’ve screamed it on the rooftops. I wanted my private life to be... _private_.”

Phichit frowns, and sulks for a moment.

 

After a few minutes, Phichit groans,

“What happened to Chris?”

“He was treated for… a gash on his leg, and discharged,” informs Victor weakly. “He’s going backcountry camping, and disappearing for a while.”

“He left? He can’t leave… without even saying goodbye…” whispers Phichit. Phichit feels his eyes burn with the beginning of tears. Then he notices a bouquet of flowers next to his bed, pink lilies and pink roses. He picks up the giant card next to it. It features a band-aid.

“For the Pink Tornado…” reads Phichit, “get well, Chris.” A smiley face balloon is attached to the edge of the card. He feels a mixture of loss and anger. “What a stupid gift,” gripes Phichit, he reaches up and pulls the curtains closed. The yellow balloon bobs at the end of its ribbon. Phichit re-reads the card, then dials Chris’s phone. It rings, then goes to voicemail. He calls again.

“Chris, answer your phone!”

Phichit sits observing his surroundings. He swipes a blanket from a nearby chair to hide his blood spattered dress. Then he walks out of the hospital.

 

Chris stops in town to buy food and gas. Then he returns to the campground and takes down his tent. Then he packs up the chairs and barbecuing equipment. He takes down Yuri’s tent, as well. He preps his hiking pack with a sleeping bag, hammock, freeze-dried food and a miniature titanium stove. Bummed out, he sits on a rock, not quite ready to leave. Sara walks up to him.

“I’m not in a mood to talk, Sara,” Chris says gruffly. Sara nods.

“I know. I’m not... mad at you anymore, you just didn’t feel the way I did. Ironically, now you do. Try to be more… compassionate in the future.”

“I don’t feel like myself. This is rough. Sorry I made you feel this way. Didn’t mean to...”

Chris opens his arms and Sara gives him a hug. She sniffles on his shoulder,

“You take care...”

Then he sees a figure, staggering towards them, with a bandaged head.

“Phichit?” Chris runs over. “Did you walk all the way from the hospital?! Sit. Now.”

Phichit looks at Sara, then Chris, and whispers,

“I have the worse timing. _Fortune knows, we scorn her most, when most she offers... blows!_ Be happy.”

Phichit faints, Chris catches him and puts him in the car. Then Chris drives quickly to the hospital.

 

The doctor checks out Phichit again, and declares him suffering from dehydration. Phichit is hooked up to an IV fluid in a private room, and Chris sits by his side, holding his head in worry. Phichit regains consciousness, eyelids fluttering, and immediately rambles,

“I had to find you… before you left. Your card was awful… Do you know, I’ve never had a boyfriend? No one’s ever loved me…”

“Yuri loves you,” Chris replies, relieved at the flow of words.

“Not anymore, Yuri is involved with... _Victor_!” huffs Phichit.

“And you finally realized you’re in love with Yuri?” asks Chris. Phichit ponders that statement,

“Why do you say that?”

“You were upset at Yuri, you called him a bunch of names…” Chris reminds him.

“Oh. I felt betrayed he didn’t tell me about Victor… How could he be gay and I not know it? I’m all muddled...”

“You’re confused ’coz you have a concussion.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve been thinking about the last weeks… Perchance I’ve been chasing the wrong rabbit, maybe I should have go after the hare? No, I missed it by a hair...”

“You definitely have head trauma,” insists Chris.

“Okay, but let me get this off my chest… I’ve been hit by Cupid’s arrow… I’m head over heels,” whispers Phichit. “I’m serious. My heart gets all fluttery, and I was green eyed...” Phichit pauses. “And when beams of lights hits your hair, I’m blinded, my eyes burning from the sun…”

Chris frowns. Phichit covers his face muttering,

“My poetic tongue is tangled in a disarray of metaphorical body parts...”

A nurse comes in, and checks the IV. Yuri barges in, followed by Victor.

“I checked your bed, they said you left!” Yuri accuses Phichit. “Yell at me if you have to, but I’ll... I’ll ... _kill_ you if you hurt yourself…” Yuri threatens nonsensically. Yuri grabs Phichit’s hand, on the verge of tears.

 

There’s a long silence, until Phichit wails,

“Now, I’m the idiot. I’ve emptied my heart to you, and you replied with a resounding silence. My head hurts, but my heart hurts worse…”

Chris, Yuri and Victor stare at him. Victor responds first,

“I’m terribly sorry, but I simply cannot return your sentiments…”

Phichit shakes his head, and winces from the pain.

“Not you, him!” he exclaims, pointing at Chris. “I thought he had feelings for me because of those lame gifts he foisted on me…” He points to the yellow balloon. “You don’t buy gifts!”

Yuri gapes at Phichit, and splutters,

“What?”

Phichit accuses Chris,

“You got me a balloon, you buffoon of a baboon!”

Chris starts to chuckles, then holds his sides as he laughs uncontrollably.

“Phichit, what are you babbling about…” begins Yuri. But Victor takes Yuri’s arm, and drags him out of the room.

 

In the hallway, Victor watches Yuri’s face register shock.

“Phichit... is in love with _Chris_? When… What… Wh... _Why_?” stutters Yuri.

“They’ve been rehearsing together, and working together to seduce me. Somehow it rebounded on them,” explains Victor. “Actually, they’re... oddly well matched.”

Yuri’s face shows a kind of sadness. Yuri mutters,

“Phichit and I have shared so much, I don’t want him to leave me...”

Victor feels a heaviness in his heart. He takes Yuri’s hand.

“It’s time for you, my fair Bianca, to make your choice: Sara, me… or Phichit?” questions Victor. _“Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not.”_

“Phichit? Sara once told me she and her brother shared one soul, and no matter how he behaved, she couldn’t live without him. That’s how I feel about Phichit, he’s like my twin brother.” Yuri turns to Victor. “But isn’t Marcus right? Aren’t we simply having a theater fling? Mistaking our characters for ourselves?”

“I don’t believe so. Being with you is like... a sunny day after a long winter. Everything is clear. I’m choosing you, Yuri. You’re stuck with me.”

“This is crazy. We’ve just met, you can’t possibly be in love with me,” mumbles Yuri.

 

In the hospital room, Chris calms down, wipes his eyes and says,

“Whoa. Backup!” He cocks his head. “Are you in love with _me_?” Chris paces, processing the information. Then he asks, “Is that why you hiked all the way to camp?”

Phichit looks down, avoiding eye contact. He admits,

“Sort of, kind of, maybe, yes? Aye... it’s true. I fought valiantly against my feelings, especially since your wooing of me was as Orlando. There’s no need to be gentle, just tell me quickly you love me not.”

“I… I … love you…” begins Chris.

“…NOT!” finishes Phichit, with a flourish. “Was that so hard?”

“…a lot…” corrects Chris.

“As usual, you’ve flubbed your line. Make a clean kill, a shot straight to the heart.”

“I’ve fallen for you,” insists Chris.

“Impossible. You’ve stumbled over someone short, pick yourself up again,” retorts Phichit, refusing to believe him. Phichit feels Chris kiss him. It feels sweet, warm and right, but then... he remembers the campground. He pulls back and questions softly,

“You aren’t back with Sara?”

“No.”

“And you slept with Yuri?”

“His sleeping bag got wet… yours too...” Chris answers, then understanding Phichit’s hurt expression, “No, wait! We slept together, we didn’t _sleep_ together.”

Phichit turns away, embarrassed at his display of jealousy. So Chris whispers in Phichit’s ear,

“Wanna bang?”

Phichit balls his fists,

“I… am… going… to KILL you…” Phichit bellows loudly. Chris nods contentedly and replies,

“I’ll gladly die in your arms.”

 

Overhearing the shouting, Yuri barges back in, crying,

“Back away, I won’t let you hurt him!”

Yuri stares at the two of them. Chris smiles a big goofy smile, and gives Phichit a peck on the cheek. Then he takes Phichit’s fist, opens the fingers, holds his hand. Phichit gives a little smile, feeling dizzy and giddy at Chris’s confession. Yuri takes a step back, bewildered. Phichit explains to Yuri,

“ _Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.”_

A nurse walks in, looks them up and down, then declares,

“Here are your discharge papers. You can ride your, uh, horses home now. Except him, I mean her,” the nurse points to Phichit, “she should be in a... carriage, driven by someone else.”

Victor and Yuri look at each other. Chris offers,

“I can drive Phichit to Seattle, are you okay to drive by yourself, Yuri?” asks Chris. Yuri replies,

“No, I can’t hold the steering wheel with my bandaged wrist. I thought you lived in Portland?”

“I was couch surfing there, but my home base is in Seattle,” explains Chris.

“My cousin and I need a ride to the Seattle airport? Unless it’s too much…” adds Victor. Chris thinks for a moment, then decides,

“Sara and Mike will take all the gear in my car, and I’ll drive Yuri’s car.”

Chris makes a few calls, planning the trip north.

 

 


	18. La Petite Mort

About an hour later, Mike and Sara arrive with both cars, meeting the four of them in front of the hospital.

“Now what?” asks Yuri. “We’re broke. We don’t even have enough for gas… let alone rent.”

Sara hands them a big wad of $1 and $5 bills.

“Here is your pay from the audience donations,” explains Sara. Yuri counts the money, bobbing his head. Yuri sighs,

“Not enough, but Phichit’s father will give us an extension on our rent, again.”

“I can cover gas, I’d like to take care of my boyfriend,” announces Chris.

“Boyfriend?” repeats Phichit, dumbfounded.

“What else? A one night stand?” asks Chris playfully. Mike gapes at Chris, til Sara huffs and pulls him away. They drive off with Chris’s car full of gear, and leave the Tercel .

 

The group are still standing around when a motorcycle roars in front of them. Yurio climbs off the back. A handsome guy with a crew cut gives a curt nod, then zooms off.

“Who was that?” demands Victor, making a helpless gesture towards the motorcycler. Yurio shrugs saying,  
“Otabek, my camp counselor.” Yurio examines their torn costumes. “What happened? Stage fight got out of hand?”

“Something like that,” Victor replies evasively. “Bret is returning the other costumes, I suppose our benefactor won’t get the full deposit back...”

 

The five of them pack in to the Toyota Tercel. Yurio sits squished between Victor and Yuri in the backseat.

“This sucks,” grumbles Yurio. Phichit pipes up,

“No problem, we can play Sherlock Shakespeare. Chris, ask me a question.”

There’s a silence, then Chris asks quietly,

“Didn’t you want a wordy boyfriend? I can’t talk like Orlando…”

Phichit looks over at Chris, then glances at Victor. He grabs Chris’s hand, and declares earnestly,

“ _Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love._ Hamlet. _”_

Chris looks over at Phichit intently, not looking convinced. Phichit rolls his eyes, then grumbles,

“Fine. I’m abandoning my search for an artful tongue and settling for your smutty ass!”

Chris grins widely.

“Watch out!” screams Yuri as the car veers out of its lane, then the car rights itself. Phichit turns towards the backseat and asks sternly,

“Victor, what are your intentions towards Yuri?”

“ _Get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee._ All’s Well That Ends Well,” replies Victor without hesitation. Yuri turns red, and turns towards the window. Yurio looks at Victor appalled and makes a gagging sound. Phichit looks at Chris with his jaw dropped.

“Inconceivable! The two of you just met…” rants Phichit. Chris pats Phichit’s arm soothingly,

“If he’s the right person, why not? You’re not gonna want to marry me? I’m just your boy toy, right?” inquires Chris, teasing. Phichit makes a a strangled sound in return. Victor asks,

“Yuri, so... when did you fall for me? When we first kissed?”

Victor hopes he’s correct. Yuri bites his lip, then finally whispers,

“ _Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service._ The Tempest.”

Victor’s eyes go very wide, then he climbs over Yurio, pushes him aside, and snuggles up next to Yuri. Phichit watches them, then demands of Yuri,

“You fell in love at the audition?”

“No… I first saw him at Hamlet… literally love at first sight,” admits Yuri. He avoids looking at Victor, now gazing adoringly at him. “I thought I was delusional... Phichit, do you forgive me?” whispers Yuri, looking down guiltily. Phichit nods his head and says,

“ _If little faults proceeding on distemper shall not be winked at, how shall we stretch our eye when capital crimes, chewed, swallowed, and digested, appear before us?_ Henry V.”

Yuri heaves a sigh of relief and takes Victor’s hand. Victor reaches over to kiss Yuri, but Yurio elbows his cousin, and Victor kisses Yuri’s hand instead.

 

Around midnight, Chris stops the car in front of Phichit’s home. Yuri, Victor and Yurio get out. Chris grabs Phichit’s arm, keeping him in the car.

“Sorry, we need a night alone,” Chris says in way of explanation. Yuri stares at him, and shakes his head.

“It’s too soon… I mean, you guys barely know each other… I mean…” protests Yuri. Victor frowns at him, Phichit gives him an annoyed look. Chris adds,

“It’ll be fine. We’re not going all the way, just some kissing and feeling each other up.”

Phichit looks appalled and argues,

“Why do you get to decide? Maybe I want to ravish you…”

Yuri interrupts,

“Sorry. Sorry, I don’t want to know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He quickly gets out the car, with Victor and Yurio following him.

 

Chris drives to a nearby marina, and leads Phichit to a small sailboat.

“Welcome aboard my boat, the _Wet Dream_ ,” announces Chris, as they climb the gangplank. Phichit examines the woodwork, and the rigging of the boat with interest.

“You own a sailboat? You dress like that, and you have no home!” gasps Phichit.

“I have a trust fund, but I like to lead the vagabond life… Do you like her?” Chris asks quietly.

“The boat? She’s a beautiful cutter... how well does she heel? How many knots can she do?” questions Phichit, running his hand on the wood edges, admiringly. Chris preens for a moment, then responds,

“She was built in the 1970s. She’s not the fastest, but she maneuvers well. I restored all the woodwork myself. You know about sailboats?”

“My father has a friend who takes us sailing once in a while... I know my way around the rigging. If I address coefficients of lift and drag that result from the sail, and the speed and direction of the apparent wind, I can adjust the sails to the strength and direction of the apparent wind in order to sail faster...” Phichit stops, seeing an odd look on Chris’s face. “Sorry, Yuri says my brain is too fast for my tongue...”

“I must be dreaming,” says Chris, looking out at the water.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re perfect for me,” replies Chris, turning his gaze on Phichit. Phichit smiles shyly, pleased.

“I’m bowled over,” admits Phichit, excitedly looking around. “This boat is incredible, I wish I could show Yuri...” Phichit stops himself. Chris adds,

“I like Yuri. He’s bright and sweet...”

“Enough about Yuri – I’m still mad at him, he should’ve told me he’s gay!” exclaims Phichit.

“He couldn’t.”

“Why? Because he needed _privacy_...?” Phichit imitates Yuri’s inflection.

“No. I think Yuri knew you’d fall for him, especially after all that rejection elsewhere. I assume he didn’t want to be with you romantically. He was protecting your heart. I’m grateful. Although he was willing to dump Victor for you,” admits Chris uneasily. Phichit watches Chris’s face, wondering who this person is... He seems smart and sensitive, not the dumb horny guy he first met. He reaches over and kisses Chris, who takes a deep breath, then steps away. Phichit frowns, then goes below deck. He examines the small kitchen, and the sleeping area. The bed is unusually large for such a small boat.

“A huge bed… the _Wet Dream_ … sounds like a bachelor’s sex pad… I’m not the flavor of the month, am I?” inquires Phichit worriedly.

“Nope,” replies Chris emphatically. Chris heads back on deck, and they sit on a bench. “I’ve always wanted to fall in love, go salmon fishing, and make love on my boat. Sara was disgusted by the fish guts, and got seasick.”

“Is that why you broke up?”

“No... I can deal with vomit, or someone hanging out while I cast, but... I felt lonely when she was around...”

“How do you feel... with me?” inquires Phichit, keeping his eyes on the banister.

“Mmm, coffee.”

“Coffee isn’t a feeling!” retorts Phichit.

“Sure it is. A cup of hot coffee on a cold morning, just makes everything better.”

“… I… That’s kind of romantic. _Victor was right, you have deep and poetic soul..._ behind that plaid exterior _._ ” Phichit turns toward Chris, and pokes his chest. “That’s why you lost interest in Victor, he hated fishing... I didn’t comprehend at the time...”

“I went after you instead.”

“You’ve been courting me!? From when...?”

“You were saying all those words to Victor, I started wishing you’d say that to me.”

“You like my verbose, long winded poetic ramblings with too many Shakespearean references?” demands Phichit incredulously.

“Yep.”

“Even Yuri gets annoyed after a while... You have weird tastes. I can’t believe I didn’t notice!!”

“You were fixated on Victor, I used it to my advantage,” admits Chris. Phichit caresses Chris’s chest, but Chris scooches away. Phichit reflects for a moment, then asks,

“And... you don’t want to have sex tonight?”

“We should take it slow.”

“I need to check something,” says Phichit, leaving.

 

Phichit goes down past the galley, and checks his reflection in the mirror of the head. Ugh. His head is still covered in a large white bandage, and there are bruises and blood traces on his skin. He unwraps the bandage and cleans up the blood, then loosens his bodice.

 

Chris waits above for a moment, then ambles downstairs, curious. Phichit watches Chris’s face as he discovers him naked. Chris gives him a gratifyingly hungry look, as he comes over and runs a hand along Phichit’s leg, admiringly. Phichit enthusiastically kisses Chris, pulling him towards the bed. Chris moans, then pushes Phichit away a bit, standing back up.

“Dammit, I’m serious about taking it slow…” insists Chris, caressing Phichit’s wounded temple.

“Is this for me, or are you not ready?” clarifies Phichit.

“I totally want to do it...” Chris says a bit huskily. “But you’ve been injured. And if we take it slow, instead of jumping in the sack like I usually do, the relationship might last…”

Phichit suddenly moves aside, sweeps Chris’s legs out from under him, causing him to land on the bed.

“All right, no jumping,” replies Phichit, unfastening Chris’s doublet. “I’ll go so slow you’ll beg me to hurry. This will last a long, long time... _If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant…_ ” Phichit kisses his neck.

“Oh… that feels good… Phichit, the stuff I’ve wanted to do to you...” groans Chris, pulling off his shirt. “Fine. Phichit... we’re doing it.”

“Ooh, you’re wooing me in verse… don’t quit, remove it,” teases Phichit, tugging on Chris’s breeches.

“Mmm, I’m dragging you down in the gutter with me,” replies Chris, arching his back as he enjoys Phichit’s mouth.

“Yes, licking and moaning. I want your heart and the rest of you... all of it,” says Phichit, pausing to admire the excellent example of manhood before him. Chris takes the opportunity to reciprocate with superior skill with his tongue, then Phichit says,

“Forget poetry, or magnificent prose, your dirty mouth has seduced me, body and soul,” gasps Phichit. Chris chuckles.

“I didn’t want you to abandon your search for an artful tongue... Tell me if anything hurts…”

“ _But come what may, I do adore thee so, that danger shall seem sport, and I will go,_ ” whispers Phichit in Chris’s ear. Chris smiles at him, then gives him another long kiss.

 

Late that night, Yuri startles at the sound of his cell phone. Victor, laying next to him, whimpers. Yurio in the other bed doesn’t stir. Yuri quickly grabs his phone.

“Hello? Phichit, are you okay?”

“Yes, breathtakingly! The pleasures of the flesh are not overrated. First we rubbed…”

“Okay, I don’t need to hear anymore,” assures Yuri.

“Yes, but then we used our mouths on our …” continues Phichit.

“Nope.”

“Then finally, I inserted a…”

“Stop!”

“Don’t you want to know anything about my special night?”

“Um... sure, yes. Phichit… did you use a condom?”

“A condom? A sheath, a barrier, ... _O wall! Full often thou hast heard my moans, for parting my fair Pyramus and me! My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones, thy stones with lime and hair knit_... It’s been a real midsummer night’s dream.”

Yuri makes a choking sound, then sternly says,

“Too much detail...”

“Aye.”

“It’s 3 AM. Why are you calling?”

“I’m happy. I miss you. Unbelievably, Chris is a catch! He’s gorgeous, smarter than I thought, and from a wealthy family... He has his own sailboat! Yuri, what does he see in me?”

“You’re amazing... I’m glad he sees you... and you’re seeing him.”

Phichit hums to himself for a minute, while Yuri says nothing.

“Yuri? What’s wrong? Are you having insomnia again?”

“Victor lives in London. He’s leaving tomorrow.”

“Move in with him. He already proposed in the car,” replies Phichit.

“It’s way too soon. And if I did, then… I’d miss you…” responds Yuri plaintively.

“No, you won’t. Let me talk to Victor.”

Yuri looks over at Victor, who is now listening intently. He puts the phone to Victor’s ear. He can hear Phichit announce,

“Victor, the good news is: Yuri is moving in with you. The bad news is: I am too. Good night!”

Victor rubs his eyes and inquires,

“Truly?”

Yuri nods. Victor grins and hugs Yuri,

“You’ll adore London!”

“I’m not sure you’ll adore living with Phichit...” worries Yuri.

“You’re allowed to be happy,” instructs Victor. “Phichit texted me to say that ten times a day...”

 

Phichit turns off his phone, excited. Chris shows up in the galley, and pulls Phichit back to bed.

“Hey, you okay? Any regrets?” asks Chris with a yawn, leaning his head onto Phichit’s chest. Phichit gushes,

“I’m splendid! ... and I should tell you... you might be attracted to men.”

“You think?” Chris chuckles. “Seeing you naked helped…”

“When did you see me... oh, the river,” remembers Phichit. “You wanted to see Victor _au naturel_ … I should be jealous, but that was rather memorable…”

“Every first date should include fishing and nude bathing,” assures Chris. Phichit rolls his eyes, then asks more tentatively,

“Earlier, were you... satisfied?”

“No, I want more...” replies Chris, letting his hands roam suggestively.

“Yes, but how would you rate my technique?” insists Phichit.

“Great, just like everything else you do. You’re a fast learner.”

“Tell me what you like about me...” insists Phichit.

“Mmm, you want me to talk or ...” Chris takes Phichit’s phone out of his hand and lets his hands wander. Phichit moans and reconsiders,

“Point made, we’ll verbalize later...”

 

The next morning is clear and windy, and Chris and Phichit take the boat out, the blue water already dotted with white sails. The moon glows pink near the horizon. It takes them some time to get their actions in sync, but are soon zipping along the coast, the sails full, occasionally sprayed with water. Chris has a big smile. Phichit feels elated, basking in Chris’s company. When they turn and hit a lull, Phichit remembers last night’s call. He becomes morose. Chris asks,

“What’s up? You look down suddenly.”

Phichit reveals,

“Last night I decided to make the leap: apply to acting school in London and stay with Victor and Yuri.”

“You’re dumping me already?” growls Chris incredulously. “I was joking about being a one night stand!”

“Oh... no, I’m... I’ll write odes to you everyday, cherish your voice on the phone... Yuri needs me...” insists Phichit. Chris considers this for a moment and replies,

“But I just found you...”

Phichit continues,

“Your love drew me to your side, then gave me wings to fly to my dreams...” Phichit sees the hurt in Chris’s eyes. He gives Chris a kiss and decides, “I will stay... Shakespeare can wait. _Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves..._ I’ll go to London next year.”

“You better call Victor back,” declares Chris.

“Why?”

“I’m coming with you,” Chris affirms firmly.

“All right. Do you want to come by hand?” inquires Phichit innocently, feeling a happy bubble developing in his chest.

“Yes, then by mouth, then by plane, till we hit London,” Chris plays along, smiling.

“And I will die, sword in hand...” exclaims Phichit to the wind, bowing with a flourish towards the crescent moon.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand, who says near the end, “Never on me had rested woman’s love.” Most have interpreted that to mean he was a virgin. However, the historical person, the writer Cyrano de Bergerac on which the play was based, is thought to have been homosexual. The Baron de Neuvillette really existed, but was actually named Christophe. Phichit is playing the title role of Cyrano. Chris is the Baron Christian de Neuvillette, and Victor is playing the love interest Roxanne. In the play, Magdelaine Robin (Roxanne) is also Cyrano’s cousin and playmate from childhood, and that aspect is being played by Yuri. The original love triangle didn’t quite fit the characters, so I made a love polygon instead. Mike Crispino is inspired by the Count de Guiche. The Count wants Roxanne (Victor) for himself, and the historical man was a handsome bisexual playboy. Since Cyrano the play is in verse, has swordplay and has a play within the play, I decided make the characters Shakespearean actors. Most of the insults, the sonnet, and the performed play are by William Shakespeare, who is either turning in his grave or... highly amused. 
> 
> To any readers, many thanks!! I imagine the overlap between YOI fan fiction and old literature is pretty small... :) I'm interested in how my writing made you feel or think if you'd like to give me feedback!
> 
> “Fear is the only darkness. Ready, Grasshopper?” Kung Fu TV series  
> “Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.” Much Ado About Nothing  
> “When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, and look upon myself, and curse my fate,” Sonnet 29  
> “Love goes by haps; some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream  
> “If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, but with good will. To show our simple skill, that is the true beginning of our end.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream  
> “O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night, being o’er my head, as is a wingèd messenger of heaven…” Romeo and Juliet  
> Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate...” Sonnet 18  
> “Cowards die many times before their deaths...” Julius Cesar  
> “your brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after voyage,” As You Like It  
> “More of your conversation would infect my brain” Coriolanus  
> “Two households, both alike in dignity..” Romeo and Juliet  
> “Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows” Troilus and Cressida  
> “For the rain it raineth every day.” Twelfth Night  
> “Consumed with that which it was nourished by...” Sonnet 73  
> “You scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe!” Henry IV  
> “Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man!” The Two Gentlemen of Verona  
> “When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won,” Macbeth, the witch  
> “Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not.” The Taming of the Shrew  
> “Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.” Much Ado About Nothing  
> “If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant…” Twelfth Night  
> “But come what may, I do adore thee so, that danger shall seem sport, and I will go,” Twelfth Night, Antonio and Sebastian  
> “Men at some time are masters of their fates:The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves...” Julius Caesar


End file.
